


If You're Going Through Hell, Keep Going

by BreakTheDawn



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And so is Ignis, Canonical Character Death, Competent Noctis, Gen, Gladio is kind and an Ass, M/M, Not Beta Read, Nyx and Prompto are Bros, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Protective Noctis Lucis Caelum, Shy Prompto Argentum, but they both get better, they just want to do their jobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:06:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16265771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakTheDawn/pseuds/BreakTheDawn
Summary: Cor’s dealt with many a person in his lifetime, but he can honestly say that he has never met someone as meek and soft as Prompto Argentum. And he’s sure that most everyone who’s encountered the Prince’s friend in the Citadel will say the same. After all, the boy has a reputation for blushing whenever another human being stands within a foot of him, stuttering on every other word to anyone but Noctis, speaking so quietly sometimes that he has to repeat himself at least three times before someone can understand him, and tripping over literally nothing when people try to make eye contact with him.“You really think that he can handle this?” Cor questions, already mentally going through what he knows of Argentum’s experience.“I think we should give him the chance to try,” the Prince responds.Cor heaves a sigh, “Get me an official thumbs up from your father and I’ll see what I can do.”Or,The Shy!Prompto AU that no one asked for but I'm taking on anyway because Shy!Prompto makes me burst into uwu.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, that feeling of posting into a new fandom for the first time! Yay! (cringe)
> 
> So basically, there's this amazing fanart of a Shy!Prompto AU somewhere on tumblr that actually gave me all sorts of life. I randomly came across it one day and didn't like or save it like the reject I am T.T, but it stuck with me so viscerally, because what if Prompto's character was interpreted in a different way like that? It got me thinking, how would Noct's story be different if such an integral part of it was changed in just the slightest way? How would it affect his character? His relationships? What would a meek and shy Prompto be like in Noct's life, epsecially if Noctis insisted on keeping him around because uwu? What would it do to his motivations? How might others change as a result? This is my humble attempt at exploring that. 
> 
> The Prompto explored in this fic has in fact become Noct's best friend, but without the boost in bravado and social presence that the canon Prompto experienced after losing weight and Lunafreya's letter. It should go without saying that he will not act like the canon Prompto very much, but I still want to point it out. I've attempted to get what a feel like the core themes of his character to stay the same, but his way of expressing them will be completely different. And as such expect the other three bros way of dealing with him to be different as well. 
> 
> Sorry for ranting for so long lol, please enjoy.

“You're serious?” 

Cor Leonis likes to think that he’s rather good at keeping a poker face. It's something he's worked hard at ever since he was young and new into his status as one of Regis’ personal retainers and he first realized that the then-Prince-of-Lucis was not-so-secretly a shit who lived for drawing out cringes and groans from his people. And over the years, he's proud to say that he can control his reaction to almost any situation that needs his attention.

‘Almost’, being the key word.

“Well you don't have to look that skeptical…” 

It’s been forever since Cor has lost control over his eyebrows, and all it took was one simple request from the Crown Prince.

“He can already handle himself better than any civilian,” Noctis insists, “he just needs...some extra attention…”

Cor doesn’t bother to control his eyebrows at this, because the Prince sounds just as skeptical as he’d just accused Cor of looking as he makes a case for his little blonde friend to receive some one-on-one training from The Immortal.

“Prince Noctis,” Cor figures that he may as well keep it plain, “this trip to Altissia is no place for someone who needs extra attention.”

The Prince bristles a bit at that, opening his mouth to speak. But Cor beats him to it.

“And anyone in this Citadel can handle themself better than a civilian,” he states, “it doesn’t mean that they’re all equipped to keep up with you, Gladiolus and Ignis.”

Noctis shuts his mouth with a slight frown, and must be able to tell that Cor has more to say on the subject, gesturing with his hand for him to go on.

“You three are very highly trained individuals, Noctis.” Cor explains, “Ignis and Gladiolus have been specifically prepared to account for any blind spots in your technique and to work seamlessly alongside you and each other. Adding someone into that mix is already an endeavour more complicated than you’d probably think, but to add someone with no real field experience?”

The Prince sighs at that, crossing his arms and looking about Cor’s office with a troubled gaze. But he does not argue.

“But you know this already,” the elder states. “So what’s making you ask?”

Noctis seems to ponder this for a moment, expression going a little sheepish and a little bit guilty.

“Prompto asked if he could come,” the Prince admits with a shrug, “I tried to tell him that it would be dangerous, but he was surprisingly insistent on it.”

Cor huffs in surprise, “This the same kid who still won’t look anyone in the Citadel but you and some of the Kingsglaive in the eye?”

Cor’s dealt with many a person in his lifetime, but he can honestly say that he has never met someone as meek and soft as Prompto Argentum. And he’s sure that most everyone who’s encountered the Prince’s friend in the Citadel will say the same. After all, the boy has a reputation for blushing whenever another human being stands within a foot of him, stuttering on every other word to anyone but Noctis, speaking so quietly sometimes that he has to repeat himself at least three times before someone can understand him, and tripping over literally nothing when people try to make eye contact with him.

The boy’s nice enough, from what little Cor has seen of him, but that hardly makes him Crownsguard material. 

“Yeah,” Noctis nods.

“The same kid you nearly killed a guard over because they made him cry?”

“I did not almost kill that guard! I just got a little angry, ok?” the Prince retorts defensively, “He was stressing Prompto out! I told everyone who needed to know that Prompto was gonna wait in my room for me that day, and then here he comes and starts manhandling him! It took forever to get Prom to agree to come back up here!”

“I think the glowing eyes spoke to you being more than just ‘a little angry’, Your Highness,” Cor deadpans. He remembers that day like it was last week and not over three years ago, because it was the day that every staff member in the Citadel realized that Prince Noctis was not to be fucked with when it came to his best friend. 

In fact, the more that Cor thinks about it, the more confused he gets. Noctis is fiercely protective over his friend, has been ever since they met back in their first year of highschool. He's not once wanted the kid to be involved in any of his hunting missions or Crownsguard training trips, even though there's been more than a few opportunities where he didn't have to get permission. With this in mind, Cor finds it surprising that Noctis is willing to ask for this in the first place when he knows how dangerous going outside the Wall is. 

“Are you even ok with this, Prince Noctis?” Cor asks seriously, because he can’t imagine Noctis being cool with putting his friend in potential danger like this.

The Prince shrugs helplessly, “I mean, I guess?” 

The Marshal waits.

“It’s not like I don’t want him there or anything, I do,” Noctis insists. “But I’m worried that he may get hurt, or be uncomfortable because Gladio like, hates him and Ignis always gets frustrated when they have a conversation.”

Ah. Cor’s heard about this as well. The Amicitias have never been fans of perceived weakness and Noctis has been known to drop everything to go spend time with his friend from time to time, so it’s no wonder that Gladiolus isn’t a fan of the blonde. And someone as well-spoken and articulate as Ignis is sure to have trouble with someone who’s basically the opposite in close quarters. Yet even more reasons why taking Argentum along is a bad idea.

“So why are we having this conversation?” Cor asks. Because Noctis is both smart and very present. There has to be a reason he brought this up even though he himself isn’t sure on it.

“Because I promised him I’d try,” Noctis states firmly, blue eyes coming back to meet his own confidently. “He really wants this, Cor. I don’t know what’s come over him lately, but he digs his feet in more and more everytime we talk about this.”

Cor watches his Prince carefully. Noct stands firm before him, and the look in his eye says he’s willing to fight for this and take the consequences that follow. It’s the look of a leader, and Prompto Argentum has been a big part in bringing it out of him over the years.

“You really think that he can handle this?” Cor questions, already mentally going through what he knows of Argentum’s experience. A distance runner, so he likely has good stamina. Has a workable knowledge of grappling and self defense, and can apparently best Noctis in a hand-to-hand session more than half of the time. Friends with Glaive Ulric, who lives in the same neighborhood as him, and apparently works out with him on a regular basis and has sat in a few Glaive training sessions when Noctis is busy. It’s not much, especially for only having a month and a half, but Cor has done more with less in the past.

“I think we should give him the chance to try,” the Prince responds. 

Cor heaves a sigh, “Get me an official thumbs up from your father and I’ll see what I can do.”

Noctis smiles, and Cor sends a text off to Monica asking her to plan for someone else to take over the Crownsguard training sessions.

….

It's a school project that ends up pushing the two together finally. 

At fifteen years old, Noctis is abysmal at art. He's good at pretty much any academic class, and doesn't do too shabby at Creative Writing. But he doesn't have the capacity for drawing, or sculpting, or photography, or carving, or painting, or pretty much anything that has to do with expressing one’s self through visual means. 

So when he's forced to put an Art History class in his schedule because of reasons (and he wants to call bullshit when Ignis explains why, but refrains because his father had already agreed), he's not very happy. Because it's bad enough that he's going to spend the entire school year doing something he's both bad at and generally not interested in, but he soon finds out that he's going to have a partner throughout all of it.

The first assignment is simple really. They get it three weeks into the school year. He's supposed to do a watercolor painting that evokes a feeling of anticipation (some odd metaphor about anticipating the rest of the school year or something). The kicker is that he's supposed to pick a partner that will have to interpret said painting, and vice versa, and they'll be graded together based on that. 

And Noctis knows he's not supposed to think this if any Insomnian citizen, but he really hates some of his classmates. 

If they're not all up in his ass because they're starstruck over the fact that the Prince is in their classroom and, then they're harshly judgemental of everything he does because they think that he thinks that he's better than them. 

...Except for one.

When Ignis tells him that he can't get Noctis out of working with a partner on this, the Prince finds himself looking towards the back right corner of the room the next day. 

The boy may as well be the personification of the word ‘small’, even if Noctis knows him to only be an inch or so shorter than himself. With his baggy uniform sweater two sizes too big on his newly thin frame and his big dorky glasses and his hunched posture and how Noct has never heard him speak without stuttering. Gladio would hate him.

But Noctis finds himself curious. And not just because this is the boy who almost talked to him back in elementary school. Though that interaction still stands out in his head, he even talks to Luna about the blonde from time to time. Because this boy's different. 

Barring that one time, the kid has never tried to speak to him. But he's also never gawked at Noctis, nor does he seem to gossip about him either. In fact, Noctis doesn't think he's seen this kid have a conversation with any of their classmates like...ever.

But he has seen that the boy is very good at this whole art thing in the short time the semester has been going on. So when the teacher says to pick a partner, Noctis ignores the hopeful gazes from half of the classroom as he stands and makes his way over to the blonde’s desk.

The double take the boy does when he registers Noctis standing over him is admittedly hilarious (and more than a little adorable, to be honest), but the Prince is on a mission.

“Uh…” he begins awkwardly. Crap. He has no idea how to do this. Does he just ask? Does he need to provide a reason? Does he acknowledge that they've sort of spoken before? He thinks he remembers this guy's name to be Prompto Ar-something, but is it weird of him to remember that when they don't talk?

Noctis is just about to apologize and walk away, when a soft voice floats up to his ears.

“H-hi...Prince N-Noctis…” and the boy gives a small quirk of the lips. “It's n-nice to meet you…My...my name is Prompto.”

Noctis takes in the freckles and the flushed cheeks and twitchy fingers, and feels the strongest urge to protect that he's ever felt in his life.

“Just Noctis is fine,” he extends a hand, “and we've met before. Remember?”

....

“So…” Noct begins later that night, flopping down on Prompto’s couch next to him, setting a pizza box on the coffee table. 

This isn't their normal spot, as the blonde is pretty iffy about anyone coming into his space. And while Noct is one of the exceptions to that for the most part, they still tend to hang out more at Noct's apartment or his room at the Citadel. But as Prompto understands it, the prince isn't too comfortable spending more time than he has to at the Citadel lately, what with arrangements being made for a wedding that he has no say in and all.

Which is how they find themselves playing a dungeon crawler in Prompto's humble abode on a Friday night. 

Prompto pauses the game, because his friend is using his ‘I have something to tell you’ voice. He bites his lip nervously, because he figures it can only be about one thing.

“...so?” He prompts when Noct doesn't say anything else.

“So how was lunch with the Glaives?” Noct asks, instead of talking about what they're supposed to be talking about. 

“Noct…” Prompto whines softly. Because his friend always does this. 

“We can talk about how my day went after you talk about how yours went,” Noct grins cheekily.

“Ugh…” Prompto groans. Leave it to him to have best friend that has this self-imposed challenge to see how many words he can get Prompto to say in any given day.

“C’mon Prom,” Noct insists, “you always have good stories from your hangouts with Nyx.”

That's because Nyx and all of his Glaive friends are crazy, Prompto thinks.

“It was ok,” is what he says, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Crowe Altius is still super scary though.”

The standout moment from eating at that little Galahd joint with the Kingsglaive was the elder woman declaring Prompto as ‘hers', now and forever, with Nyx and Libertus arguing that they saw him first. 

“So I've heard,” Noct hums thoughtfully, swinging an arm around Prompto and pulling him in close. The blonde smiles, cheeks flushing a bit. Tonight's a snuggle night apparently, which means that Noct has good news. 

“I lifted weights with Nyx beforehand,” Prompto says quietly, “I think it's making a difference.” 

“So you'll be leaving me with even bigger bruises the next time we spar?”

Prompto winces, thinking about the last time he'd done some hand-to-hand sparring with the prince. 

“S-sorry again about that…” he mutters. He didn't think that Noctis would be that easy to throw over his shoulder. 

“Nah, don't worry about it,” Noct’s hand is warm through Prompto’s hoodie as he rubs his arm. “You were badass.”

Prompto doesn't say anything to that. Instead finding himself thinking about how much different it would have been had Noctis used his weapons.

“Not badass enough…” he whispers. 

He thinks of the letter hiding out in his desk. 

“Noct…?” Prompto asks.

“You really want to do this?” His friend tightens his arm around Prompto.

“I want to help you Noct,” the blonde says as firmly as his voice will allow, and he's glad that it doesn't shake. “If you'll let me?”

He feels Noctis nod.

“Cor’s gonna pick you up at five am sharp on Monday.”

Prompto pales.

“Like...the Immortal?” He squeaks. Cor the Immortal is going to be training him? Prompto doesn't quite know what he expected when he'd asked Noct if he could join his guard for the road trip, but the Marshal of the Crownsguard wasn't it.

“You know he hates that nickname, right?” Noct says, sounding way too amused about Prompto's inevitable death. 

“He'll hate me too…” he responds, voice strained. 

“Hey now,” Noctis leans forward to make sure Prompto can see his frown. “Cor isn't going to hate you.”

“Noct…” Prompto says quietly, “all of the Crownsguard hate me.”

“Not true!” Noct protests immediately, “For one, you've only met like, a quarter of the Crownsguard.”

And that quarter of the Crownsguard hates me, Prompto thinks. And no matter what the prince tries to say, this will always be true. Prompto's both weak and a refugee, and from what he's seen, a lot of the Crownsguard (who are all generally of noble birth and trained to be elite fighters) don't appreciate either. 

He also has a very overprotective friend in Noct, who makes no effort to hide just how much he favors Prompto. And while the blonde does appreciate and enjoy how safe his friend makes him feel, it's about time that he takes the steps to do the same for Noct.

“And for two, Cor doesn't just casually hate anyone,” Noct explains, “he may look scary, and he does work his trainees to the bone, but he has the patience of a saint.”

Prompto thinks on that for a moment. And he supposes that while Cor makes him quake in his boots every time they happen to be in the same room, the man has never looked at him any differently than he looks at everyone else. And Noct is due to leave in less than two months from now. Who better to whip him into fighting shape than the Marshal himself?

“Five am on Monday,” Prompto repeats, “I can do this.”

Noctis gently pries the controller from Prompto's hand, resuming the game in the process.

“I know you can,” the prince states, “but in the meantime, I think I'll be beating your high score now.”

Prompto grins. Noct is shit at this game.

“You can try.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm rather serious, actually.” He responds. Ignis knows that if he looks up from the latest reports on the Imperial Outposts, he'll find Gladio looking at him in that rather comical way he does whenever he's completely caught off guard. Eyes wide, right eyebrow cocked, mouth just slightly agape. It won't stay comical for long though, because in no time at all he knows that Gladio's face will twist in disbelieving anger because things that catch him off guard always piss him off. 
> 
> So Ignis doesn't look up.
> 
> “What the actual fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BreakTheDawn here! Swooping in with another chapter!
> 
> Naturally I own absolutely nothing lol, please enjoy and stay tuned for more notes at the end!

“I must admit Regis...I’m a bit skeptical about this.”

 

Regis Lucis Caelum is no stranger to hearing these words coming from his Shield. In fact, he’s come to expect it more often than not. Maybe even rely on it in a way. So it’s not a surprise when Clarus brings of the topic of Noctis’ friend as they sit in the King’s study nursing their respective glasses of brandy.

 

“As I expected you to be,” Regis responds calmly. He’s been waiting for this conversation ever since he gave Noctis permission to have Cor personally see to the Argentum boy’s training. 

 

“Surely it can’t be just me though?” Clarus prompts, “You actually think this a wise choice?”

 

Regis merely hums in response, deciding not to respond. Clarus knows him well after all this time. So he knows that Regis himself holds some serious reservations about Noctis’ request. It doesn’t come from a place of malice, of course. It’s simple facts that lead him to worry that this will end up being a spectacular waste of Cor’s time. 

 

“I know we’ve entertained the thought of adding a fourth to the Prince’s retinue,” Clarus continues on, “would it not be wiser to send a Glaive or a more experienced Crownsguard? Rather than a civilian who would likely hold them back in a fight?”

 

Argentum is not a fighter. The boy is capable of defending himself if need be, Regis knows, but that in no way makes him a smart choice to be retainer for his son. But that’s not the biggest concern to him if he’s to be perfectly honest. He knows it is for Clarus. The lack of fighting prowess and the boy’s meek demeanour do not make for a suitable guard, and that’s what most people who will protest this idea will say. But the King himself personally thinks that this isn’t too critical, the boy can be taught, in the end. Regis knows that several people can attest to the fact that Argentum does have an aptitude for combat. If anyone can bring him up to an acceptable level in such a short amount of time, it would be Cor. 

 

“I certainly see your point, my friend.” Regis responds. “And that is a very real concern. However,” he sips from his glass before going on, “there is more than one way to protect a person than just protecting their physical body.”

 

“But protecting their physical body should come first,” Clarus insists. Spoken like a true Amicitia. Like someone’s who’s very goal in life is to ensure that their charge lives to see another day unscathed. Regis appreciates it, and thanks the Six (despite everything he knows), that Noctis has someone like this in Gladio. Someone who will take his duty seriously to the very end, and keep Noctis on track to perform his own.

 

“That it should,” Regis affords this point to Clarus. There’s not much dead body can do to rule a country, after all. “But we also should not discount the importance of preserving a level of mental and emotional fortitude.” Because as much as it aches to admit it, Regis knows that his son is destined to go through many hurts during the course of fulfilling his role. 

 

Ignis is very good for this, Regis knows. It warms his heart to see that he’d made the right choice in bringing the two up together from a young age. For not only did Ignis grow into the role of advisor and tactician admirably, he’s also come to be something of an elder brother figure for Noct, and a superb counterpart to balance out Gladiolus’ place in Noct’s life. And Regis knows that his skill and support will be integral for what comes next.

 

“You don’t think Ignis and Gladiolus have this covered?” Clarus asks curiously, no sense of challenge or judgment in his words. They both know of the extremely rough patch Noct and his retainers went through when his son had transitioned from middle school to high school. Sullen and unengaged for a plethora of reasons, Noctis had not been the easiest child to mind, especially for two so close in age to him and still in the process of growing up themselves. 

 

“I do actually,” Regis responds. Because they’ve come a long way since then. Noctis trusts and relies on Ignis and Gladiolus without hesitation and neither one of them has failed to live up to expectations. “I’m not worried about this Argentum boy being able to fight,” the King explains, and Clarus listens. “There is no doubt in my mind that Cor will not allow this if he decides the he can't make a guard out of this child in the time allotted.”

 

“What I have the most reservations about,” Regis goes on, “is how Argentum will fit into the dynamic they've already developed. I worry that the balance they've found will falter.”

 

The appearance of Prompto Argentum in his son's life played no small part into the tension that slipped between Noct and his retainers throughout the Prince's time in high school. Noctis had latched onto the boy for many reasons, but one of the biggest seemed to be how ‘normal’ the boy treated him. Argentum was shy and soft-spoken with Noctis, but no more than he was with every other person. 

 

It brought out an interestingly protective side of his son, Regis remembers. Because Argentum apparently dealt with bullying, anxiety and parental neglect (if Noctis was to be believed), and not once did he ever ask for his son's help for it. So when Noctis eventually found out, he offered said help anyway.

 

He began to invite Argentum to his apartment, began to spend more time outside of school with, began to alter his schedule to make sure this boy was alright. 

 

It drove Gladiolus and Ignis up the wall. 

 

Because Argentum has always had trouble speaking with new people, Noctis had put off introducing him to his retainers for close to an entire year. And he could get away with it too, because Argentum has always lived in Insomnia’s lower refugee district, and it just so happened that he was neighbors with Nyx Ulric and several other Glaives, who Noctis asked to handle his background check.

 

Ignis was the first to finally corner the two, near the end of the summer before Noct's sophomore year. Because Argentum’s background check had come back clear and Glaive Ulric could vouch for his physical person, Noctis had not been required to let Ignis meet him. And because he tended to spend most of his time with Argentum at school that year or at Noct's apartment during Ignis’ regular shifts at the Citadel, that meeting just didn't happen until Ignis forced it.

 

Regis understands where the advisor had been coming from. From Ignis’ perspective, Noctis had been avoiding what meager duties he had as well as his training to hang out with an unknown. His grades hadn't suffered, and apparently some of them had even improved. But he wasn't present, and his mind wasn't on anything from the Citadel, and he was defensive over the idea of introducing Ignis. And so Ignis had sought out Argentum directly when Noctis was having dinner with Regis. 

It hadn't gone well.

 

Regis still doesn't know the full story, but Argentum didn't take to Ignis bringing up facts from his background check very well, and Noctis had been livid.

 

Gladiolus met the boy under slightly better circumstances. Not that it helped, really.

 

Noct's Shield met Argentum just after the infamous incident where Noctis had brought his young friend to his room at the Citadel for the first time. Regis had not yet met the boy face to face, but he'd begun to notice the more positive influences he had on Noct, something he did not think many others were paying attention to due to how frustrating his son could be where Argentum was concerned. 

 

But Regis could see what lies beneath all of that. Noctis was becoming more confident in his own skin. He was less closed off, more quick to show that boundless compassion of his. He had also developed a bigger interest in certain workings of Insomnia, no doubt due to the new perspective he had from spending so much time with a civilian. 

 

So when Noctis had asked if Argentum could join him at the Citadel to work on a project during one of his son's more busy times, Regis had no trouble saying yes. 

 

Sadly, not everyone had gotten the memo. It was a relatively new Crownguard who'd heard Argentum moving about in Noct's room when Noctis had stepped out to sit in on a meeting. Everything had gone downhill from there.

 

Gladiolus had met Argentum in person when the boy had come to accept an official apology from the Crownsguard in question. He'd apparently heard that Noctis and his friend would be in the same place at the same time where he could actually catch both at once.

 

Noct's Shield had not been impressed by the small boy. And in that normal Amicitia way (with no tact), he'd made it clear. But Noct's newfound protective streak was not to be challenged, and the Prince had declared in no uncertain terms that Prompto Argentum was around to stay and anyone who had anything to say about it could do something quite vulgar. 

 

“Ah,” Clarus nods, “that's a fair worry. Gladiolus still doesn't get on very well with the boy.”

 

“Neither does Ignis, honestly,” Regis mutters. Gladiolus had respected Noct's no-nonsense stance on his friend, and the two had worked out their issues during training. But the larger man had never grown to like Argentum, and had in fact just decided to stop trying to interact with him after a while.

 

Ignis and Noct have never been able to hold a grudge on each other, so while that debacle with Argentum had made things very strained between them for a long while, they did eventually come to a truce on it. But Regis knows that Ignis tolerates Argentum at best, because the boy is notoriously difficult to hold a conversation with.

 

“All due respect, Majesty,” Clarus begins curiously, “but I would think that this would make putting the kid with them an even worse idea. Their biggest strength out there will be each other, and if something threatens that…”

 

“I know,” Regis sighs. Takes another sip. Sighs again. “But I cannot deny the strength Noctis derives from this boy.”

 

Because being friends with Argentum has made Noct into a warmer, more attentive, and more decisive man. These are all things Regis knows his son will be tested on very soon, and as worried as he is that Argentum won't fit in well with Noct's retainers, he's even more worried about what will happen if the boy is still in Insomnia away from Noct when the Empire finally decides to stop playing at peace. 

 

“I choose to believe that whatever happens will be for the best,” Regis decides. “And I choose to trust not only Cor’s judgment, but my son's as well.”

 

“Hmm,” Clarus hims thoughtfully, before holding up his glass. “Well said, Your Majesty.”

 

And they drink.

 

…

 

“You're kidding me, right?”

 

Ignis sighs. Leave it to Noctis to not only leave Ignis himself out of the loop on this, but also put him in a position where he needs to be the one to explain it to Gladio.

 

“I'm rather serious, actually.” He responds. Ignis knows that if he looks up from the latest reports on the Imperial Outposts, he'll find Gladio looking at him in that rather comical way he does whenever he's completely caught off guard. Eyes wide, right eyebrow cocked, mouth just slightly agape. It won't stay comical for long though, because in no time at all he knows that Gladio's face will twist in disbelieving anger because things that catch him off guard always piss him off. 

 

So Ignis doesn't look up.

 

“What the actual fuck?” The bigger man grits out. Ignis doesn't respond, but he can't fault Gladio his reaction. Ignis himself had reacted in a less than dignified manner when Cor’s secretary passed him the information

 

“Where's Noct now?” Gladio questions, standing up from where he's been sitting on Ignis’ couch. “I wanna talk to him.”

 

“He's over Prompto's at the moment,” Ignis answers, “Nyx Ulric and Libertus Ostium are right down the hall from them, so he didn't need to take a detail with him. I imagine he'll be staying the night.”

 

“Tch,” Gladio scoffs, “‘M goin’ over there.”

 

“Might I advise against that?” Ignis finally looks up to see his friend moving with purpose to the door. “After all,” he reasons, “it would be very rude to show up unannounced at Prompto's home. Especially considering he does not like people going there.”

 

“Iggy,” Gladio says stubbornly, “I gotta know what the hell Noct is thinking with this. A civilian? Prompto? The kid looks like he's going to bolt if you so much as breathe in his general direction? He's supposed to protect Noct?” 

 

“I myself am quite perturbed at Noct's choice,” Ignis admits, “but there's little to be done as the the King has already given his approval.”

 

Gladio makes his disbelief face again.

 

“Seriously!?” He sounds completely gobsmacked. “Where did this even come from? Noct doesn't even like the idea of the kid having to fight!”

 

“Yes,” Ignis nods in response, “that is quite curious.”

 

Because Ignis has suggested multiple times that Prompto take up training in a more official capacity than just casually grappling with Noct and occasionally doing drills with the Glaive. But the Prince has not once ever been receptive to the idea. 

 

There'd been a time when Noctis went outside of the Wall with a group of Crownsguard and Gladio in order to practice survival skills and take up some hunts. It had been a rather casual outing, suggested by Gladio due to a bet between him and the Prince, and so Ignis had brought up the idea of allowing Prompto to accompany them, hoping that it may both smooth some of the tension between Gladio and the blonde and make Noctis realize that people he kept close simply have to be able to defend both themselves and him.

 

Noctis had never shut down one of Ignis’ ideas so plainly in their life. 

 

Ignis knows now that Noctis probably enjoys being able to protect Prompto, rather than have Prompto protect him. The Prince was likely worried that having Prompto seriously trained would change their friendship. And so it's very odd now that Noct has chosen to try and bring Prompto along on what will likely be one of the most dangerous and complicated trips they've ever taken.

 

“I'm not sure what has changed,” Ignis states, “but the fact remains that it has been set in motion. And it's not our place to question it.”

 

“Like hell it isn't Iggy,” Gladio retorts fiercely, “I can't protect Noct properly if he's going around throwing himself in front of blondie!”

 

“You must remember that Cor will be the one overseeing this,” Ignis reminds. “I doubt that Prompto will make it out with us if the Marshal does not want him to.” 

 

“Well there's that at least,” Gladio gives, “kid probably won't even make it past the first day. Cor’s brutal on a regular training schedule, I can't imagine how much of a hard ass he's going to be since he only has a month and some change.”

 

“Now Gladio,” Ignis chides, looking back down to his notes. “Prompto has done nothing to us, there's no good reason to wish failure upon him.”

 

Because as hard as it is to talk the blonde, Ignis can recognize that Prompto is indeed a very kind soul. And while he might not be the type of person Ignis can be friends with, he certainly isn't a bad guy.

 

“Hasn't done anything for us either,” Gladio mutters.

 

Ignis chooses not to respond to that either, because he's not so sure it's true. He doesn't know if Prompto's presence in Noct's life has been overall better or worse for them, but he isn't blind to the fact that the blonde brought Noct out of that shell of his in a way they could never accomplish.

 

“Either way,” he says instead, “all we can is our duty. We'll be there for Noctis regardless.”

 

“Yeah,” Gladio huffs, “yeah we will.”

 

… 

 

Noctis sleeps like some odd mix between a koala and an octopus. 

 

It's actually a disaster, Prompto thinks as he lays on his modest double bed with the prince's arm slung across his chest and his legs somehow twisted around Prompto's right leg in a vice grip.

 

It's past two in the morning, he realizes with a quick glance to his alarm clock. Though with it being Saturday, he doesn't have much to do today. He doesn't have to work, his semester at Insomnia University has already ended, and Noctis is here and not at the Citadel. Prompto thinks it's kind of sad really, how all the decisions and details regarding Noct's wedding are being so meticulously handled by people who aren't Noct that the prince doesn't even need to be present half the time. 

 

Though he'd never admit it, Noctis is totally a low-key romantic at heart. Prompto knows that a political marriage to Lunafreya has always been on the table for Noct, but he also knows that his friend had still hoped to be able to propose to whoever he ended up paired with. 

 

“I always kind of imagined Galdin Quay, ya’know?” Noct had said wistfully after the news broke over six months ago. “I figured that she wouldn't mind sitting with me to fish, and we'd walk on the beach with Pryna and Umbra, and I'd pop the question over some fancy overpriced dinner and then we'd eat something supercheap like ice cream sandwiches for desert or something.”

 

“Do you love her?” Prompto had asked.

 

“Nah, not like that,” the prince had responded easily. “But I could love her,” he'd started immediately after, “and I've always wanted to propose right. My dad didn't get to propose to my mom, actually. My grandfather didn't propose either.”

 

“Why not…?”

 

“They were rulers during times of war,” Noctis had explained, “and just like now, their marriages were more a sign on solidarity than for love. Everything was arranged for them, all they really had to do was show up. Though my dad fell hard for my mom like, super fast.” 

 

“I just…” he had continued, “I know it was super naïve to expect different for myself, especially since the war was worse this time, but I never wanted to be the guy who just ‘showed up’ to anything. I knew this might happen, I just wish I could have asked her myself like she deserves.”

 

“Like you deserve too,” Prompto had reminded.

 

Noct interrupts his reminiscing quite rudely then by pressing his nose, which is always freezing cold for some reason, into Prompto's collar bone. 

 

The blonde squirms a bit, but really can't move too much with the prince grappling him as he is, and so he eventually just accepts it.

 

Prompto's lets his eyes slide shut. This close to Noct, he can feel the thrum of the Lucian magic as it pulses through his friend like a separate heartbeat. It's comforting in a way, as it reminds him that Noct is living. But it's also sad, because Prompto knows that the prince's magic hurts him to use sometimes. 

 

He thinks of King Regis, who looks more and more unwell with every address he makes to the Crown City. He thinks of Niflheim, and why they would want to make peace this way when they were winning the war. He thinks of Lady Lunafreya, who takes care of the world but doesn't seem to receive the same thing in return. He thinks of her letter that he received via Pryna three weeks ago, oddly timed and a little worrying for it's vagueness. He thinks Noctis, who has done more for Prompto than the blonde can even fathom. Who has a will of steel and heart of gold. How he wants to take care of Noct like Noct takes care of him.

 

Prompto thinks and thinks until he slips off into an uneasy slumber, face pressing into Noct's hair as the prince unconsciously pulls him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've a bit of setup to get through before we get to the bulk of the story, which as of now is planned to be Prompto's training into the beginning of the road trip. I'm so happy to see that reception has seemed mainly positive so far! It really helps to know other opinions, especially with me being unused to writing for this particular fandom. 
> 
> So we've got a little bit of a look into what the king's thinking with giving the go ahead with this. And also a look at Ignis and Gladio in the 'verse. I feel the need to say that I do love our older chocobros, but they might not always seem to come off very reasonable towards Prompto at first, but they're really just trying to do their jobs as best as they can with Noctis actively making it bit more difficult. 
> 
> Anyways, next time we'll start putting Prom through the ringer! So please stay tuned for more!
> 
> Stay happy and healthy, see ya'll next time!


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx almost doesn’t know what to say to him, he’s not a therapist, he doesn’t know any kids really, and he’s never met someone with Prompto’s particular problem.
> 
> But Prompto finally looks up through his large glasses to meet Nyx’s eyes and the man sees it again. That fire behind them that caught his attention tonight in the first place. Prompto is sad and doesn’t seem to like himself very much, but it doesn’t seem like he’s content to just sit around and feel sorry for himself about it. There’s a determination in his eyes and the set of his shoulders. He’s not ready to give up.
> 
> Nyx grins a little, he can work with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so like, I know that I said that we'd get into some training with Prompto this chapter, but the characters were kind of just "no, Dawn, more set up!" and I was just like "Fine! but next chapter we'll put him to work for sure!" 
> 
> But seriously lol, something in just felt like it was necessary to end this chapter where I ended it. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy reading about Nyx as much I enjoy writing Nyx!

Nyx Ulric meets Prompto Argentum when he is twenty-two and the kid is twelve. 

 

Well, if one is to get technical, it actually happens two years before that when the Argentums first move into the building where a lot of Glaives nest. 

 

His first impression of the boy is that he’s super small, but undeniably cute. (He doesn’t have a first impression of the kid’s parents, because the only one he ever sees come and go when he’s home is the boy himself. If he’d taken more time to analyze that when he was young and first starting into his service to the Crown, he would have been a bit more disturbed at the fact that this ten year old seemed to be alone more often than not.)

 

He doesn’t talk to him officially until the boy is twelve though. 

 

Nyx isn’t always in his apartment, as his job generally carries him away from Insomnia for days or even weeks at a time, but he’s around just enough to see the boy pack on the pounds in a two year time span. And it’s not the weight gain that sticks out in his mind so much as how _sad_   the boy looks. There aren’t many kids in the neighborhood, and the ones Nyx knows of are mean little shits, and the kid stutters like crazy from what he’s heard from the other people in the complex. Nyx figures he must be lonely.

 

So when he sees the kid coming back from what looks like a late night jog of all things, exhausted and sweaty but with a glint in his eyes Nyx has never seen before, the elder can’t help himself before he’s approached.

 

“Hey kid,” he says amicably, ignoring the way the blonde flinches and stares wide eyed at being addressed. “You know it’s not good to be running around after dark by yourself?”

 

Because this is the refugee district, and most people here have a hard way of it. As nice as it may appear sometimes, the are always desperate people around, people who wouldn’t hesitate to harm a little boy if it meant they could eat for a few nights.

 

“I-uh-er-I…” the kid sputters out nervously. He looks like he’s about to start hyperventilating, so Nyx is quick to take mercy on him.

 

“Hey there now,” he raises his hands in a ‘calm-down’ gesture, “don’t worry, kid. I’m not gonna do anything to ya. Just wanted to talk.”

 

“W-why?” the boy asks, thankfully calming down a bit. “A-am I in t-trouble mister?”

 

“Ok, first of all,” Nyx lowers his hands, “the name’s Nyx. I’m not old enough to be a ‘mister’ yet.”

 

The kid nods frantically. Nyx sighs.

 

“Second of all, you’re not in trouble with me,” he states, “but won’t you get in trouble with your parents when they find out that you were out this late? Are they waiting for you at home?”

 

“N-no…” the boy responds meekly, “they both work a lot...t-there’s no one a-at my house.”

 

Nyx fights the urge to groan aloud. Just his luck, to get involved in something he can’t in good conscience leave alone now.

 

“What’s your name kid?” he asks.

 

“P-Prompto,” the blonde responds, shifting about nervously.

 

“Well Prompto,” Nyx says kindly, “you know that you can run in the morning right? When the sun is coming up as opposed to late at night when something might happen to you?”

 

“I-I g-guess…” Prompto nods, but looks like he has more to say. 

 

“Well?” Nyx prompts, after about a full minute of awkward pause. “What do you think about that?”

 

In any other circumstance, Nyx may have found it amusing how Prompto goes visibly uncomfortable and stressed just over being asked his opinion on something. Now though? Now it’s just kid of disheartening.

 

“I-I…” the kid stammers, “I...p-people can s-see me easier dur-during the day…”

 

Nyx’s heart clenches. Dammit. He’s invested now.

 

“Something wrong with that?” he asks Prompto, but he’s not sure he wants hear the answer. Especially if it’s what he thinks it is. Prompto looks too damn young to have such issues already.

 

“I..I…” the kid blinks rapidly, and Nyx nearly aborts mission by the time he answers. “I...don’t w-want people t-to look at me…”

 

“And why’s that?” Nyx attempts to meet his eyes, but Prompto is good at avoiding it.

 

“I f-feel gross…” Prompto admits, “B-but I’m trying to d-do better! I-I don’t want a lot of p-people to see me before I-I look better.”

 

Nyx nods sympathetically, wondering where in the hell this kid’s parents are. And where they have been, for that matter. Issues like these don’t just pop up out of the blue, how can they have not noticed that their child is this sad?

 

He assumes the kid is talking about losing weight, if the fact that he was running is any indication. And Nyx almost doesn’t know what to say to him, he’s not a therapist, he doesn’t know any kids really, and he’s never met someone with Prompto’s particular problem.

 

But Prompto finally looks up through his large glasses to meet Nyx’s eyes and the man sees it again. That fire behind them that caught his attention tonight in the first place. Prompto is sad and doesn’t seem to like himself very much, but it doesn’t seem like he’s content to just sit around and feel sorry for himself about it. There’s a determination in his eyes and the set of his shoulders. He’s not ready to give up.

 

Nyx grins a little, he can work with this.

 

....

 

“Sunshine!” 

 

Prompto yelps, fumbling around with the weapons magazine he'd been reading until it's halfway across the room at Nyx’s feet. Nyx. Who has apparently decided that knocking is obsolete.

 

“N-Nyx!” He huffs, flushing in embarrassment at his over-the-top reaction. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

 

The man in question merely grins, bending to snatch up the magazine at his feet, humming in curiosity. 

 

“You’ve been reading a lot of these lately, kid.” He states, flipping through the pages. “You thinkin’ about putting that tinkering habit of yours to use?” Nyx asks, “Anything good in here?”

 

“N-not really,” Prompto responds, deciding not to try and have the whole ‘knocking’ conversation again ( _“You let me have this key, sunshine! Doesn't that mean I can come and go as I please?” “N-Noctis has one too and he knocks!” “Eh, different people.”_ ). “I was just reading up, just in case it comes in handy.”

 

Nyx smirks in response. 

 

_Oh no,_  Prompto thinks. _He's in a good mood_.

 

“Hoping to impress the Immortal with some practical knowledge, huh?” The Glaive teases, waltzing in and making himself comfortable on Prompto’s couch. 

 

“W-well,” Prompto flushes, adjusting his glasses on his face. “It's not like...the _goal_ or anything…”

 

“But…?” Nyx pushes, doing some ridiculous thing with his eyebrows.

 

“...but it can't hurt?” The blonde admits. He's heard that Cor appreciates practical knowledge, after all. And Prompto has been subscribed to _Weapons_ _Monthly_ for a while now, due to his chosen minor in Weaponsmithing and Engineering. It can't hurt.

 

Nyx guwaffs, “that's awesome sunshine, play to your strengths. You'll need ‘em, cause Cor Leonis is a hardass if I've ever seen one.”

 

Prompto gulps. As if he wasn't nervous enough.

 

“Though if you really wanna play to your strengths,” Nyx grins, “you'll show off that dazzling smile of yours!”

 

“Nyx,” Prompto groans, bringing his hands up to cover his hot cheeks. 

 

“What?” The elder laughs, “you gotta know how to work people, sunshine! That smile has half of the Glaive on their knees for you!”

 

Prompto snorts despite himself. “Oh please,” he murmurs, “you all just like to fluster me.”

 

“You make it so easy!”

 

“And I'd like to think that I have more strengths than just a smile,” Prompto says quietly. It must not come off as casual as he wants, because Nyx stops laughing and turns his full body to face him on the couch.

 

“Hey now sunshine,” the Glaive admonishes, “don't go getting all cloudy on me. My squad was thrilled to hear that you're trying to become Crownsguard.”

 

_Yeah_ , Prompto thinks. _That's because they have a crap ton of bias towards me_. 

 

“Really?” Is what he asks, because he is curious. “Has news spread that fast? Noct just told me that Cor agreed on Friday.”

 

And it's Sunday now. Prompto knows that the Glaives are a bunch of gossips and eavesdroppers, but two days?

 

“That's because Friday is when the King gave his approval for it,” Nyx explains with a grin. “The Marshal started making plans to rearrange his entire schedule on Tuesday. The Glaive captain got told, which means I heard about it too.”

 

“Oh,” Prompto doesn't know whether it's a good sign or a bad sign that Cor assumed that the King would give his approval before even getting a confirmation. 

 

“This is great, sunshine,” Nyx goes on, “getting into the Guard is awesome for you. You already have a higher security clearance than most of them, and you've got some pretty natural skill that can be utilized well.”

 

“R-right…” Prompto concedes uncomfortably, rubbing at his wrist band. 

 

“Seems like the best choice too,” Nyx continues thoughtfully, “with you being the Prince's best friend and all.” 

 

“Yeah,” Prompto responds a bit more confidently. He's never been adverse to joining the Crownsguard. The idea is, and always has been, intimidating. And Prompto has never been sure how much worth he would be as a Guard (still isn't). It's been a thing where he would say yes if offered, but has never actively sought out. 

 

Noctis has never liked the idea though.

 

Any time it's been suggested beforehand has been met with a rather hard no from the prince in the past. Granted, Prompto himself had never been the one to ask, so his lack of interest may have played a part. But Noctis had seemed just as uncomfortable with the idea when Prompto himself asked only two weeks ago.

 

He had gone super cagey, regarding Prompto with that closed off expression he always gets when someone reminds him that he's a Prince.

 

_ “Why?”  _

 

_ “I...just. It's the only way they'll let me go, right?” _

 

_ “...Right.” _

 

_ “S-so? I think I can do it.” _

 

_ “I mean...we can talk about it, I guess?” _

 

It hadn't taken much to convince Noct, in the end. Just a very drawn out conversation about how _yes_ , he was _sure_. Noctis had promised to try, and here they are now. 

 

“So what weapon are you thinking about taking up?”

 

Nyx’s question pulls him from his thoughts rather abruptly, “H-huh?”

 

“A weapon, sunshine,” the Glaive explains, casually pulling one of his scary looking knives from thin air. “The Kingsglaive has a different regiment than the Guard, but one thing we have in common is that we choose a weapon to focus on. Though the general idea is that you'll eventually make yourself proficient in multiple, your first one should be the best suited for your own personal skills.”

 

Prompto stares at the kukri as his friend offers it. It really is very sharp-looking indeed.

 

“C’mon, don't be shy.” Nyx teases with a grin. “A lot of Glaives specialize in knives and short blades,” he begins when Prompto finally works up the nerve to take the weapon into his hands, “for us, it makes sense. They're easy to throw and aim, and the weight and shape of them normally means you can get an accurate warp strike off with little hassle.”

 

“They might be a little up close and personal for you though,” Nyx continues on thoughtfully, “you've got the build, the speed, and maybe even the strength but I don't know that a month is enough to condition your endurance for how exhausting using knives can be. They're made to kill near-instantly or to work at an enemy for a while. Not too much in between.”

 

_Plus_ , Prompto thinks, _knives are_ _scary_.

 

“What other weapons are there?” Is what he asks. He knows that the Citadel has an impressive armory.

 

“Most Crownsguard I know prefer their blades a little heavier,” Nyx responds, “Katanas are pretty popular because of the Immortal. Greatswords are too because of Clarus Amicitia. Your build is a little too small for those at the moment though. Not good for prolonged use “

 

_Plus the fact that swords and katanas are even scarier than knives_ , Prompto thinks. 

 

“Any...non-stabby or slashy weapons?” Is what he asks. 

 

“Huh,” Nyx laughs, “never pegged you for the type to bludgeon something to death.” 

 

“W-what?” That makes Prompto sound like a sociopath! “I never said anything about bludgeoning!”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nyx chuckles, “I know, sunshine. But that's what the next option is. Some of ‘em fancy maces or flails, but not many. I've seen a bo staff or two? Spears are pretty fucking difficult to learn outright, and you said no stabby, so…” 

 

The elder tilts his head to the side and hums thoughtfully, before snapping his fingers suddenly and directing a toothy grin over to Prompto.

 

“You did really well when Libertus dared you to try that crossbow out,” the Glaive reminds, “they're kind of high maintenance though, ever thought about trying out a gun?”

 

“U-um…” Prompto stammers, fighting the urge to to reach for his wristband to fiddle with it. Because he has thought about trying out a gun. Multiple guns in fact. Both in his dreams and in his waking moments as he looks through weapons magazines from beyond the wall. The fascination is nerve-wracking, because he doesn't quite know where it comes from.

 

“A-aren’t guns illegal?” He asks cautiously.

 

Nyx shrugs, “The general public can't carry them. And Niff-made weapons are illegal for even a license holder to carry. But the Guard actually has some nice traditional models. Hard to find people who use them though. Monica taught the Prince the basics actually.”

 

Prompto nods. Noctis had been very vocal at the time about how boring using a gun is apparently. The blonde secretly thinks that it was really because Noct's accuracy with a gun is crap. 

 

“But you don’t really have to worry about what weapon you’ll take up on the first day,” Nyx explains, accepting the kukri back when Prompto hands it over. “You’ll probably start with some conditioning, to make sure that you’ll be able to keep your stamina in a fight. And then some hand to hand most likely.”

 

The younger hums thoughtfully, relaxing a bit as Nyx finally disappears his weapon. “Have you ever worked with the Marshal?”

 

“Nah,” the Glaive responds, reaching the remote on Prompto’s coffee table. “But that’s how any trainer worthy of the name would start in your situation, with how little time you have,” he turns on the television, navigating through channels at random as his speaks. “And the Immortal is apparently the best there is, so I’d expect a lot of tedious workouts and exercises on Monday. He’ll probably push you til you vomit or drop.”

 

Prompto’s head snaps to look at his neighbor at that. Nyx’s eyes are on the screen, looking at some politically charged panel of people debating the treaty. All casual as if he didn’t just give Prompto a reason to vomit right here and now.

 

“W-what?” he squeaks.

 

Nyx shrugs, “Not many people even get considered to guard the Prince in a regular situation. You’re basically about to become another one of his retainers. That’s hella important, sunshine. If I was gonna train you, knowing the stakes, I’d make day one absolute hell for you, just to see if you can hack it.”

 

Prompto gulps. When Nyx puts it like that, it makes sense.

 

“And not just physically, but mentally too,” the elder man continues. “You already know that there are a shit ton of politics involved with being the best friend to the Prince.”

 

It’s a statement, because they both know that Prompto knows this. People in the Citadel tend to either tolerate him like Ignis because Noctis made it clear that nothing else was gonna fly, or ignore him like Gladio because they believe that Noctis will eventually have to cut him loose when he starts taking over for his father. (Or they hate him because he’s obviously both a commoner and not a Lucian native, but those people are thankfully miniscule and take their Prince seriously enough to never bother Prompto.) 

 

There’s also the people like Noctis himself, people who somehow really seem to like Prompto. People like a lot of Glaives that run in Nyx’s circle ( _“We’ve adopted you, sunshine. Accept it.”_ ), pretty much all of the servant staff for whatever reason, and the Crownsguard who live in Noct’s apartment complex. He’s not so sure what about him these people like, because Prompto firgures he has to be exasperating at best and downright irritating at worst, but who is he to complain about someone being nice to him?

 

The people like Ignis or Gladio though. They must be pissed to hear that Prompto is being considered for this. The blonde can’t really blame them, because he’s not so sure that he would be very different if his was in their positions with their upbringing. 

 

“I’m not too worried about you with that, though.” 

 

Prompto looks up again (he hadn’t even noticed that he’d put his head down), and Nyx is regarding him with a very bemused gaze. “Y-you’re not?”

 

“Nah,” the Glaive shrugs, “you got some real mettle, sunshine. I knew it when you refused to stop running at night all those years ago and wouldn’t apologize to me for it.”

 

Prompto flushes, “I technically never agreed to stop running at night though. I just said that I would start running in the mornings too.”

 

“The ‘stop running at night’ was totally implied though!” Nyx laughs, wide-eyed. “How can you be so randomly stubborn over the oddest things?”

 

“I mean…” the blonde shrugs, “I don’t think it’s quite random....”

 

“Remember that time with that cat that would only let girls approach it?”

 

Prompto splutters helplessly, face burning. “Y-you said that you would stop bringing it up!”

 

“I lied. I’m gonna be telling that story for years to come, sunshine.”

 

“N-Nyx!”

 

“In a few months,” the man ignores him, “when you’re off doing your duties as one of the Prince’s retainers, I’m going to tell all of the Crownguard I know about that cat. It’ll be great.”

 

“Oh em gee…” Prompto groans, putting his face down into his hands. He briefly wonders how on Eos he managed to get such a troll as one of his closest friends. And then he processes Nyx’s words better. “...When?” he asks quietly.

 

The Glaive laughs, “Remember when I was feeling all moody and bitchy about how we weren’t making any progress on the frontlines last year? What you said to me then?”

 

Prompto does remember. 

 

“You follow your own advice,” Nyx offers with a grin, “then there’s no ‘if’ about it. You’ll be on that trip to Altissia without a doubt.”

 

“Y-you think?” he doesn’t know how some saying his adoptive father told him one time will hold up against Cor the Immortal.

 

Nyx laughs loftily.

 

“Trust me, sunshine. I know.”

 

....

 

“A word, Noctis?”

 

_Here we go_ , Noctis thinks.

 

He has to give his adviser credit. Noctis has been expecting a conversation ever since he got back to the Citadel Saturday evening to be fitted for his tux (for his wedding, his mind unhelpfully supplies). It didn’t happen then, when he’d been greeted by Ignis upon arrival. But he knew that Ignis knew. Because for one, he’s Ignis, and Ignis knows just about everything that involves Noctis. Noct had went to Cor personally, and then his dad personally, so there was no way for it get out before he confirmed it with both of them. But he knew that the moment he told Cor that his dad had said yes, it would mean that the Marshal would have to share it with his secretary, who would then have to follow the proper channels to get Prompto authorization to use the Citadel armory. It’s no doubt spread to pretty much everyone at the Citadel by now.

 

Noctis supposes he could give Ignis some credit for waiting until now, nine pm on a Sunday to bring this up, but he knows that his adviser is hoping that the prince’s busy day will have left him worn out by now and therefore more receptive to...advising.

 

“Now?” he asks, lounging on his couch with phone in hand. It’s not as comfortable as the one in his apartment.

 

“If you would,” Ignis insists.

 

“Ok then,” Noctis concedes, looking up to meet Ignis’ gaze. The adviser's face gives nothing away, but he has that glint in his eyes he gets when he’s trying (and failing) very hard not to judge Noctis before hearing him out. “What’s there to talk about?” the prince asks. 

 

In a normal situation, he wouldn’t be so flippant when Ignis looks so serious. But he has a very low tolerance for people questioning his best friend for any reason, so Noctis doesn’t bother to respectfully approach conversations in which that is bound to happen.

 

“Highness,” Ignis starts off. He’s going to try and play the duty cards tonight, then. “Might I ask what exactly your goal is in having the Marshal train Prompto?”

 

“You know what the goal is,” Noctis responds plainly, “I want him to come on the road with us.”

 

“I see,” Ignis’ left eyebrow arches, “and you believe that he will be brought up to speed in just over a month?”

 

“If there’s anyone that can make it happen, it’s Cor.”

 

“And this was Prompto’s idea?”

 

Noctis’ eyes narrow slightly, “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

 

“A simple deduction really,” his adviser responds, “you’ve never once expressed any interest in having Prompto join your guard. In fact,” Ignis moves to seat himself on the arm of the couch, “you’ve actually expressed quite the opposite.”

 

Noctis doesn’t answer that. He won’t apologize for all those times he shut Ignis down when the adviser tried to get him to convince Prompto to train for the Crownsguard.

 

“On that same vein,” Ignis continues, “you’ve not expressed any interest in bringing him along even as a guest to your wedding.”

 

“Because this wedding is bullshit, Iggy,” Noctis responds, “they just want both me and Luna to be in their pockets. Hell, they’d probably try to follow us if they knew we were leaving before the treaty!”

 

“More reason why it’s clear to me that this was Prompto’s doing, and not yours.” The older male states, “Any reluctance you have on his ability to perform aside, you’ve always actively taken a stance against placing Prompto in a situation where he could be harmed.”

 

“Tch,” Noctis scoffs, “I know that. But you don’t have to say it like that.”

 

“Pardon?” Ignis asks, seemingly genuinely confused for a moment.

 

“It may have been Prompto’s idea, but this is _my doing_ ,” Noctis explains firmly, “so if anyone is to blame for this being set in motion, it's me. Not him.”

 

“That may very well be, Highness,” Ignis responds calmly. “But you admit yourself that it was Prompto’s idea, do you know what brought it up?”

 

Noctis has an idea, but if he's right, he knows that it's not Ignis’ place to know any more than his own place to know.

 

“That doesn't matter,” he insists, “this is happening because I want it to happen. So what if I didn't want it before talking to him about it?”

 

“But does Prompto himself understand the ramifications of this decision?” Ignis asks bluntly. “He will be sworn into the Crownsguard, and will likely take up a Lieutenant ranking due to being a personal retainer of yours. The trip to Altissia notwithstanding, does he truly understand all of the nuances that will be required of him when we return?” 

 

“And that's considering he gets far enough with us in the first place, Noct.” The adviser continues, “Prompto is not a fighter in the first place. Does he know that will not have access to the Crown’s funds due to the difference in currency and our need for anonymity? Is he prepared to take up hunts and dangerous jobs for money? Is he prepared to dodge the Empire? The whole purpose of this trip is for you and Lunafreya to meet in Altissia so that your union may take place in the one remaining neutral State of Eos. Surely you agree that more preparation is necessary than just learning how to defend himself?”

 

Noctis remains quiet. Not that there's much anyone can say when Ignis goes on a tirade like this. He hopes that his face doesn't give away the spike of anxiety at hearing everything laid out for him like this. 

 

Because the true answer is no. Noctis does not think that his best friend is prepared to deal with everything he just signed up for. And it sucks, because no one is harder on Prompto than Prompto is on himself. His biggest fear is not that Prompto can't handle it eventually, but that his best friend will damage himself trying to take all of this on in the short amount of time that they have.

 

“There's still time to reevaluate this decision, Noctis,” Ignis says sympathetically, which means that Noctis didn't do a good job of controlling his expression.

 

The adviser is right though. 

 

All it would take is a simple call to his dad, and then all of this would stop before it even started. Cor would go back to focusing on security for the Signing. His dad would be alleviated of the worry of sending an inexperienced guard outside of the Wall with his son. Ignis (and Gladio too. Because if Iggy knows, the Noct's Shield has heard as well) would relax and be able to focus on his own duties to prepare for the trip.

 

And Prompto?

 

Prompto would be safe inside Insomnia while Noct went out and about where beasts and daemons roamed freely. He wouldn't have to deal with all the shitty politics that would result from his placement. He wouldn't have to pledge his life to the Crown and subject himself to the invasive nature of the Citadel’s Intelligence Department. He wouldn't have to risk his life just to save Noct's. 

 

Noctis sighs heavily.

 

Prompto would also be heartbroken. He would never cop to it, but Noctis knows that his best friend would be so very sad if he changes his mind. Prompto would feel abandoned and left behind, and Noct knows that he already feels like that on a regular basis because of his parents. Prompto's insecurities would get worse, and he'd probably retreat into the dangerous head space he gets sometimes when his dark thoughts send him into a depression.

 

He'd get over it though, hopefully?

 

Noctis knows that Prompto would respect his decision, and try to see things from his side. But he's not so sure that their relationship would be able to recover from Noctis becoming someone like what he's always wanted to protect Prompto from. The type of someone who writes the blonde off just because he's shy and has anxiety and is an immigrant. 

 

“Ignis…” Noctis mutters, eyes widening slightly. Because that train of thought leads him to a memory from when he was just sixteen. 

 

Noctis had just started attending council meetings, but had never spoken up because he didn't have anything worth saying. That started to change when he'd learned of Prompto's bullying.

 

The school they'd attended had been a public school, but was certainly in one of the city's more affluent areas. And not just any affluent area, but one of those relatively snobby ones that seemed to float around very unfortunate ideas about the refugees and their place in the city during the state of the War. Especially if they looked like a Niff. 

 

It had taken over a year of close friendship with Prompto for Noctis to realize that the blonde dealt with some pretty terrible bullies and flippant teachers. That being the only friend to the Crown Prince meant being a sounding board for not only people's issues with the refugees, but also people's issues with the royal family. 

 

The worst part was that Prompto had been so very adamant that Noctis not use _any_ resources from the Citadel, eventually admitting that his parents were hardly ever home and thus in violation of some kind of agreement that no one official could find out about, less Prompto be forced to move away from them. Noctis had failed to see the problem with exposing neglect (he still does really), but Prompto had so much love for his parents and his neighborhood, that Noctis would have felt like a daemon if he'd jeopardized it.

 

So Noctis handled everything personally. He got in bullies faces, stuck close to Prompto in hall, started speaking up for the blonde when Prompto couldn't manage past his stutters. He even threw his weight around a little bit with the teachers that weren't helping as much as they should have. Noctis may not have had any interest in using the little skill he'd gleaned from watching Ignis, Gladio and his father, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't if necessary.

 

It led him to learning of the sucky support systems in place for those who lives in the outer refugee districts. The Insomnian Police Force were all pretty centrally stationed, so their response time had sucked. There was a lack of shelters and parks and established private businesses. And the most egregious fact that the Crown City had no solid anti-bullying laws. 

 

Noctis had brought this up to Ignis and several other advisers (but not his father, because he didn't want to rely on the King’s word to get people to take him seriously) in hopes that they would arrange for it to be talked about in a council meeting. But they'd all been convinced that he had some sort of bias because of Prompto or that he was coming to conclusions without proper investigative channels. It had hurt a bit, because practically every higher up in the Citadel had questioned the Prince's competency. There he was, trying to prove them wrong, and he wasn't even given the chance because he'd made a friend. 

 

It had led to a rather serious argument with Ignis in which both of them had not-so-subtly implied that the other stay in his place. 

 

Noctis had brought it up to Prompto one night after school in the library. The blonde never had much to say other than a few stammered but very sweet words whenever Noctis had griped about his duties, but he was the best listener that the Prince had known other than Ignis, just without the wall of duty in place. His best friend had surprised him though.

 

“Well…” There had been a certain quality to Prompto's tone that made him look up to see his friend staring right at him. Noctis had found himself instantly curious, because up to then, he'd never seen Prompto willingly try to make eye contact with anyone. 

 

“Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, right?” The blonde had offered, speaking without a single stutter to his words or any type of tremble to his tone. “If you really think that you can make a difference, that this is your chance,” Prompto had nodded as if he was talking to himself as well as Noctis, “then you should take it. Regardless of those who don't believe in you.”

 

Noctis looks up to stare Ignis in the eye, making sure his face expresses just how non-negotiable his next words are going to be.

 

_ “Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves, right?” _

 

“Ignis,” he repeats, “I understand where you're coming from, and you've definitely made your point.” Noctis stands up from the couch, choosing instead to look forward. “But you'd better take the time between now and when we leave to make peace with the fact that Prompto is going with us.”

 

“Highness…”

 

“And tell Gladio the same thing, will you?” Noctis says firmly, “I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's in Cor and Prompto's hands now.”

 

“Noctis,” Ignis calls as the Prince turns to make way to his bedroom, “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

 

Noctis thinks about the defiant shine in Prompto's eyes in the library all those years ago. About how the council had been stunned to silence when Noctis had spoke out of turn and refused to be spoken over. About how his dad had looked at him seriously, listened to him carefully, and smiled proudly when he was done. 

 

“I don't have to be sure,” he answers, “Prompto's sure, and that's what matters. He'll make me feel stupid for worrying about him, and prove you wrong. Just wait for it.”

 

“Noctis,” Ignis says quietly, “this is potentially your life and the future of Lucis we're talking about here.”

 

And Noctis has willingly trusted Prompto with more about himself than anyone else. Told him things that could destroy him if Prompto decided he wanted to. Hell, he'd secretly given his friend access to the Armiger two summers ago. Trusting Prompto with his life will be just one more thing to add to the list. And sure, Noctis is probably going to have to work up to it, but Prompto hasn't let him down yet.

 

“Yeah,” he continues walking, “and we’re done talking about it now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Nyx and Prompto bromance/friendship is literally everything I need from my life, and it's always made me sad that the canon events never shows Nyx interacting with the chocobros. Like, I realize that he was probably conceptualized specifically for Kingsglaive, but I love him so..here he is!
> 
> p.s. I know that I altered Nyx's canon age a bit, but it just seemed to work so...sorry not sorry lol.
> 
> We also get a bit more into this interpretation of Noctis in this chapter. I feel like all that determination and mettle that's implied behind Noct's perpetually exhausted character just needs the right catalyst to bring out the protective side. This is pretty much that without all the despair the game puts him through. This Noct is Prompto's biggest cheerleader and defender, and it leads to him taking a more active part in Insomnia's politics than the game and anime implied. He may come off as bit dismissive and rude to Ignis here, but to me personally, if Noctis is being more assertive in his duties and ideals, it stands to reason that he'd be a bit...more firm in his opinions with Ignis and Gladio. But we'll explore that dynamic more in the future as well.
> 
> Anyways, I'll see ya'll next time! Stay happy and healthy!


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor turns to meet the wide gaze of his student. Good, he’s successfully scared him. What Prompto does with this fear is important.
> 
> “I’ll say this again,” he puts the car in park, “If you aren’t prepared to take this on, you need to tell me now.”
> 
> A pause.
> 
> “I-I’m prepared, Marshal,” Prompto says. 
> 
> “Very well then,” Cor nods, “let’s get started then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're back!
> 
> I'm quite pleased to present to you the chapter in which our resident best boy and our lovely Papa Cor finally get down to business. I'll admit, I kind of struggled with where to cut this chapter and how much of the little nuances to focus on, but ultimately I'm satisfied with how this turned out because I'd like to slowly work up to the more complex aspects of their training.
> 
> But for now, please enjoy!

Prompto Argentum is just as meek and unassuming as Cor remembers. 

 

Cor has met him a grand total of three times over the years, but other than a bit more height and what looks to be slightly fuller shoulders, Prompto at twenty doesn't look too different from Prompto at seventeen. 

 

But the boy is thankfully awake as he opens the door for Cor at 4:58 am on a Monday. Surprisingly enough, he seems to have been up for a while too.

 

“Argentum,” Cor nods in greeting.

 

“M-Marshal Leonis…” Prompto lifts a hand dwarfed in the cuff of a far too large hoodie and waves slightly. He's avoiding eye contact, but that's normal for him. Cor is pleasantly surprised to have visible evidence of the fact that Noctis managed to break Prompto out of his habit of excessive bowing. 

 

“You understand why I'm here, Argentum?” Cor asks.

 

“Y-yes sir.”

 

“Are you going to waste my time?” Cor asks bluntly, “Because if you aren't prepared to take this on, you need to tell me now.”

 

He's not expecting the kid to back down, considering this was apparently Prompto's idea and all. But he still finds himself slightly surprised when the boy looks up to meet Cor’s eyes. 

 

“I-Im ready sir,” Prompto states, pushing his glasses up. Cor briefly entertains the thought that he may be able to do something about that stutter if Prompto makes it past day one.

 

“Good,” Cor gestures for the kid to follow, before turning to walk back down the hall. “All you need is your body,” he explains as Prompto scrambles to come after him, “I've reserved use of the lower training halls for us, there will be no distractions that way and it's close to the armory.”

 

The elevator is thankfully still on the sixth floor where Prompto's unit is, which means they don't have to wait the absurd amount of time that Cor had to wait just to get up here. 

 

“You've always had access to it, seeing as though you have what amounts to Kingsglaive level security clearance, but we've added the armory and the locker rooms to it as well.”

 

The elevator reaches the ground floor and Cor walks out briskly, not looking back to see if Prompto’s keeping pace. 

 

“We're going to start with conditioning,” he explains, “I'm told you have a workable knowledge of hand-to-hand combat and self-defense techniques. We'll test your proficiency on those too, but our biggest focus will be getting your body prepared for the strain of prolonged combat and getting you skilled with a weapon or two.”

 

Cor opens the passenger side for the kid, waits for him to settle in before shutting it and moving over to the driver’s side.

 

“I need to be frank with you, Prompto,” he begins, three minutes later as he’s driving through one of Insomnia’s more festive refugee districts. Cor knows that a lot of Glaives favor this district because of its close proximity to the Galahd-themed street market. Unfortunately, he also knows that the crime rate here has always been on high side, though it’s dropped significantly since the Prince decided to take up revamping the city’s refugee accommodations as a personal project. 

 

“You’ve asked to be a part of something very serious. I’m sure you’re not ignorant to the state of the War before this treaty?” Cor questions. He figures that Prompto actually knows more than most, seeing as though his social circle includes some of the most commonly deployed Kingsglaive. 

 

“I-It was bad…” 

 

“That may be a bit of an understatement,” Cor snorts humorlessly, “Lucis was losing pretty damn soundly.”

 

“R-right…”

 

“Knowing that, surely you must see how important it is that Prince Noctis arrives to Altissia unharmed and without incident?” Cor asks, “This wedding has been specifically named as a term in the Treaty. Absolutely nothing can stop Noctis from arriving to Altissia.”

 

“I-I understand s-sir…” Prompto murmurs. Cor’s not sure what to make of his tone at the moment. If it were anyone other than Prompto, then he’d probably turn the car right around after hearing such a sad sounding affirmation. But as he understands it, and from what he’s seen, this is literally just how Prompto talks. He’ll have to see the kid in action before coming to a conclusion. 

 

“I know you’ve spoken with the Prince about this,” Cor glance over at the boy when they hit a red light. He doesn’t know the kid enough to be sure, but Prompto doesn’t appear any more worried than he looks on a regular basis. “And he’s probably told you that it will likely be dangerous,” he continues, “but has he explained exactly how and why it will be dangerous?”

 

“No s-sir.”

 

“You won’t have the support from anyone from the Crown City,” Cor states as they continue moving, “the Prince’s wellbeing will be entirely left up to Ignis and Gladiolus. And you, if you make it.”

 

Cor hears the kid gulp slightly at that. Ah, there’s the nerves. Well, more nerves than the standard.

 

“It won’t be a short trip,” he goes on, “and that’s mainly because of the fact that it’s being kept from Niflheim. The Prince won’t be able to travel through any part of Lucis where the Imperial presence is influential, he will have to avoid blockades and bases entirely, and he will not be able to draw attention himself as a Prince. He’ll likely have to hunt and live off the land fairly often.”

 

Cor slows down at a gate to allow the cameras to scan his license plate. It takes about two seconds before the gate starts to rise, allowing him to take a nondescript tunnel that will take him straight to one of the underground parking lots connected to the Citadel. 

 

“We have seven weeks to prepare you for all of this,” he states as they pull into a parking space, “Seven weeks to put you in a position where you can keep up with those who have been training most of their lives.”

 

Cor turns to meet the wide gaze of his student. Good, he’s successfully scared him. What Prompto does with this fear is important.

 

“I’ll say this again,” he puts the car in park, “If you aren’t prepared to take this on, you need to tell me now.”

 

A pause.

 

“I-I’m prepared, Marshal,” Prompto says. 

 

“Very well then,” Cor nods, “let’s get started then.”

 

…

 

“I don’t know why you’re so put out over this, Gladdy,” Iris says casually, “Noct really likes Prompto and wants him to tag along, shouldn’t he be able to take his best friend to his wedding? And besides, Prompto’s super nice and really smart.”

 

Gladio groans. It’s too early in the morning for this. 

 

They’re in one of the upper training rooms, waiting for the latest batch of Crownsguard hopefuls at five fucking am on a Monday. Because Gladio is one of the people that was volunteered to cover some of Cor’s training shifts. Because Cor is busy wasting time with Prompto. 

 

“You’re missing the point, Iris,” he attempts to explain, “it’s not about Noct liking him at all, it’s about us taking along a liability into dangerous territory. Noct has always had a blind spot for the kid too, so that’s another thing to worry about.”

 

No, that’s probably not fair. Cor’s time with Prompto isn’t going to be wasted, necessarily. Because Cor isn’t the type of person to waste time. He’ll stop it quick if it turns out that Prompto can’t be taught. But no matter how well Cor can prepare the kid, he’s still an unknown factor that can only bring more trouble than he’s worth. 

 

“And since when do you know anything about Prompto to say that he’s smart?” Gladio asks curiously. He himself had stopped trying to talk to the kid a long time ago. He couldn’t deal with the stammering and the shaking, on top of the fact that him and Noct almost always argued about some way Gladio had apparently upset Prompto after their interactions. As of now, Gladio has not even spoken directly to Prompto in about two years. 

 

It’s not like it was difficult, because Prompto has never seemed to like talking to Gladio all that much either, and tends to give him and Ignis a wide berth. And unlike Ignis, Gladio’s duties don’t often put him in a place where contact with Prompto can’t be avoided. 

 

“He helped me with some of my homework once,” Iris responds easily, “he’s really good at math and physics. Better than Noct and Iggy, even.”

 

“Yeah well,” Gladio shrugs, “Noct and Iggy both hate math and practical sciences like physics or chemistry. You know that Noct’s a history buff and Iggy’s all about the social studies. And anyway, the kid being smart doesn’t give him an automatic pass to become Crownsguard.”

 

“That wasn’t my point,” Iris huffs, “my point, was that it sounds like you and Iggy are being really judgmental over a guy you don’t know very well.”

 

“I’m Noct’s Shield,” Gladio retorts, “Iggy’s his Hand. Being judgmental comes with the territory, we can’t just let anyone get past us.”

 

And Gladio refuses to apologize for using common sense. He doesn’t understand why they’re even entertaining this. If Prompto doesn’t get Noctis hurt, which is the worse case scenario, then he’ll get himself hurt, which will totally fuck Noctis up in the head. 

 

“But do you have to think of it as him getting past you?” Iris presses, “I hardly think that you need to protect Noct from  _ Prompto _ .”

 

“You don’t know that,” Gladio says plainly, “I don’t know that. Iggy doesn’t know. Noct doesn’t even know that, and this trip is about the worst opportunity to find that out for sure.”

 

“Oh c’mon Gladdy,” it’s his sister’s turn to groan now, “he literally hangs out with the Glaives all the time! Doesn’t he have like, a yearly background check that he never fails?”

 

“He may not want to physically hurt Noctis,” Gladio concedes, “but he’s a wimp. People like that are impressionable Iris, they balk under pressure and don’t always think logically when faced with a tough situation. How do we know he won’t turn tail and bolt the first time something bad happens?”

 

“And Noctis doesn’t think clearly when Prompto is involved,” he goes on, remembering all the skipped training sessions and ditched briefings. “This is nothing more than an unnecessary complication,” Gladio declares, “and hopefully Iggy was able to talk some sense into Noct last night so this stops before it can become a problem.”

 

He hasn’t spoken to Ignis since his friend had stated that he would bring it up to the Prince, but Gladio thinks that Ignis has a chance if he appeals to Noct’s care for Prompto’s wellbeing. Because if there’s one good thing about Prompto’s involvement in Noct’s life, it’s that it’s brought to light a protective side that no one expected. One fit for a leader. If only he could separate his emotions from it.

 

“I just think it’s kind of mean to be trying to take away someone’s opportunity ,” Iris mutters. And Gladio does feel a pang of guilt at the fact that his sister seems to be genuinely upset over this. He had no idea that her and Prompto have somehow become friends over time.

 

“It’s nothing against the kid, Iris,” he responds as the sounds of chatter start to fill the halls. The trainees are finally filing in, it seems.

 

“Isn’t it, though?” Iris challenges.

 

Gladio doesn’t respond.

 

…

 

Prompto is very flexible.

 

It’s good, Cor thinks. It means that he can have superior maneuverability, and that they can use it to capitalize on what little martial arts training he has. The Prince isn’t very flexible, what with his back injury and bad leg. Gladiolus isn’t either. Ignis has comparable flexibility, but Prompto’s smaller frame means that working on his evasion can make it so that even Noctis’ advisor can have trouble keeping up with him.

 

The kid can fucking run, too.

 

It’s to be expected, Cor realizes. Prompto’s sprint puts some of the Crownsguard’s best to shame, and a solid hour shows that the kid’s stamina is on par with that of Gladiolus, at least when it comes to running. He’ll have to have him do the same exercises on the sand track before the month is out before he can say that definitively, though.

 

Nevertheless, these are all things that a civilian can easily accel in if they put in the effort, and only proves that Prompto can be an expert at running away if need be. It’s nowhere near enough for Cor to entrust the Prince’s safety to him. 

 

“You know what burpee is, kid?” he questions. They’re about two hours into the session, and though Prompto’s hair is plastered to his face with sweat and his glasses are fogging up, the kid still hasn’t removed the ridiculous hoodie that makes him look like a little kid. Cor decides not to mention it. If the blonde overheats and passes out, then that’s on him. 

 

“A w-what?” Prompto’s face scrunches up in confusion. 

 

“A burpee,” Cor repeats, “pretty much the nightmare of weightless working out.”

 

“T-the nightmare…?” the kid shuffles his feet nervously, “I-I don’t know how to do it. S-sorry…”

 

“Then you’ll learn,” Cor states simply, shrugging off his jacket like a normal person does when they’re about to build up a sweat. “Pay attention kid,” he gets into the starting position, “you want your feet to be shoulder-width apart…”

 

Prompto immediately mimics Cor’s stance. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find that the boy never needed an invitation to begin following along with instructions.

 

Cor goes through the motions of a burpee, explaining as he goes along, dimly aware of the kid following along the entire time. By the time he ends back up in a squat, Prompto is already panting slightly. 

 

This tells Cor that Prompto is probably the type to do isolated exercises, and not full-body ones. Good, the burpees will push him in a way he’s not prepared for, then. 

 

“Three sets of ten, sixty second rest in between,” Cor says firmly. In his experience, it’s always best to not let trainees set their own goals on the first day. “Go.”

 

He doesn’t give Prompto the opportunity to rethink keeping the hoodie on. Cor wants to see how he handles this.

 

Prompto does the first three reps perfectly fine, which Cor expected. But the unexpected intensity of the motions gets to the kid in the fourth rep and he falters. Which Cor also expected.

 

“Stop,” he orders, and Prompto immediately stops. He gives the boy a few seconds to voice his desire to take the hoodie off, it has to be getting to the point of unbearable by now, but Prompto doesn’t take it. Very well then. “You didn’t form a straight line with your body when you went down to the plank position, start over.”

 

Prompto’s jaw drops a little bit at that, and Cor waits again for him to request a second to pull the hoodie off. But he doesn’t say anything.

 

“You heard me, Argentum,” he puts more of a command in his voice, “don’t make me repeat myself again. From the beginning, start over.”

 

“Y-y-yes sir.”

 

Cor figures the heat must really be getting to the kid, or maybe his tone completely fucked up the boy’s nerves, because Prompto doesn’t even perform the first rep properly this time.

 

“Stop,” and Prompto stops, “Start over.”

 

The gasps in a breath, regards Cor with a small measure of disbelief, still doesn’t request that he be allowed to remove his hoodie. And then he puts his head down and starts over.

 

“Stop,” he makes it to four reps this time, “Start over.”

 

This goes on for about ten minutes before Cor starts to feel the first tendrils or irritation curl up in his chest. 

 

“Stop,” he says again, “Star over.” Prompto’s been consistently failing the first rep by this point. The kid’s face is a blotchy red with overexertion, and he seems to be having trouble even catching his breath at this point. He still has the damn hoodie on.

 

“I-I don’t know if I c-can…” the boy wheezes out. Cor’s eyebrow twitches.

 

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Argentum?” he demands. “This is a rather simple exercise that most Crownsguard recruits use as a  _ warm-up _ . Are you saying that you can’t even pull this off?”

 

The kid’s eyes widen behind his glasses. Cor’s surprised that he can even see out of them. Maybe he can’t and just isn’t doing anything about it like he’s not doing anything about that stupid hoodie.

 

“Start over,” Cor orders, when it’s clear that the kid isn’t going to be able to formulate a coherent response. Prompto bites his lip, briefly looking he’s holding back tears of frustration, but nods his head and returns to starting position.

 

The kid’s meekness is frustrating, Cor decides, as he watches the blonde screw up the first rep again. He doesn’t stop him this time, allowing the boy to do nine more reps of imperfect burpees before Prompto looks at him hopefully.

 

“Those were all pathetic,” Cor deadpans.

 

The way the kid’s face falls would probably be disheartening to anyone else, but right now it serves to just irritate Cor even more. If he would just take the fucking hoodie off.

 

“Five laps,” he says, and watches Prompto bite his lip. “We’re not getting anywhere like this, so we’re going to break for an hour and get some water in you. But I want you to do those laps first. I’m timing you, and the moment you go over an acceptable time, I’m going to stop you. Then you’ll start over.”

 

Any brightness in Prompto’s expression at the promise of a break dies by the time Cor is done talking, and he soon finds the blonde staring at him in dread. 

 

“Unless you think you can actually do the burpees?” Cor arches an eyebrow. The boy still doesn’t request to remove the hoodie, which is quite frankly ridiculous. Any endurance or stamina he has left is burning away as he overheats.

 

“I…” Prompto hesitates.

 

“Laps.” Cor snaps, “Now.”

 

The kid squeaks, nodding his head and moving sluggishly back over to the track. The burpees have taken almost everything out of him, it looks like. Cor can already tell that Prompto isn’t going to make it, but he allows the blonde to run anyway. He still doesn’t take off the hoodie, even though Cor knows he must realize by now what the problem is, seeing as though he’s pulling it away from his sweaty body uncomfortably.

 

The difference is noteworthy. Earlier, Prompto had thrown himself into his laps with a confidence Cor had never seen from the boy before. His pacing had been perfect, his form exceptional, and his focus impressive. Now? The kid looks like he’s focusing on not throwing up, his form is shit, and his pacing is laggy and lethargic with random bursts of speed that do nothing but tire him out more. 

 

Halfway through Prompto’s second lap, Cor calls, “Stop.”

 

The boy flinches terribly, nearly losing his footing.

 

“Start ov-”

 

“I-I can’t,” Prompto’s voice trembles slightly as he cuts Cor off, “p-please.”

 

“Please what?” Cor demands, stalking over to where the boy is shaking on the track. “You saying you can’t do this either?”

 

“N-not now, I can’t.” Prompto responds softly, “I-, I just- Please, I c-can’t do what you want me to do right n-now...and y-you s-said not to w-waste your time…”

 

“So humoring you is a waste of my time?” Cor asks harshly.

 

“N-no!” the blonde says frantically, waving his hands. “I...I just don’t know what you w-want from me!”

 

“The hell do you mean, you don’t know what I want from you?” the Marshal asks incredulously, “I’ve been very clear, have I not?”

 

“Y-you keep looking at me l-like you expect me to say something,” the kid’s voice is high and stressed. His breathing is heavy and uneven. “B-but I- I just-” his voice cracks, “I d-don’t know what you want me to  _ say _ !”

 

Cor barely has time to feel slightly impressed that Prompto was so observant before the boy starts hyperventilating.

 

“I-I-I-” he stammers horribly, hands going to his own chest as he gasps for breath. “I can do- I can do- I can’t- I just! I ne-” Prompto lets out a distressed noise as his eyes well up, “ _ Please _ ! J-just- I can do it! I j-ust need some water! A-and to take o-off my h-hoodie! I don’t know what you want, bu-but just give me l-like thirty minutes, I don’t n-need an hour! I just-”

 

“Enough,” Cor says firmly, raising his hand. Prompto’s mouth snaps shut and the boy looks at him anxiously, still very much on the verge of full blown panic attack. “You need to breathe, kid,” he orders, trying very hard to not feel like an asshole. “I hear you,” he steps forward when Prompto shows no signs of calming down, “and you’ll get your thirty, but you need to not pass out beforehand.”

 

“I-” Prompto gasps, “I don’t w-want-”

 

“Kid,” Cor places firm hands on Prompto’s shoulders, “look at me.”

 

Prompto looks at him.

 

“Breathe with me kid, ok?” Cor says calmly, “In and out with me. Come on, on my count.”

 

It takes a few moments, but Cor eventually gets Prompto to calm down enough so that the boy no longer runs the risk of passing out. 

 

“S-sorry,” Prompto apologizes quietly, face flushed in what Cor assumes is embarrassment. The elder man merely sighs.

 

“You asked what I wanted from you,” Cor states, releasing the kid and taking a few steps back. “That was it,” he gestures to the six-damned hoodie, “you’ve been pushing your way towards heat exhaustion this entire time, kid. I thought that you would wise up to it and speak up about it.”

 

“O-oh…”

 

“I may have pushed a bit too hard,” Cor admits. In retrospect, it was probably unreasonable for him to believe that Prompto would feel comfortable enough to speak up for himself to the Marshal of the Crownsguard when he’s known for not even being able to do that with the kitchen staff. “I knew there was no way for you complete your exercises like that, but I was willing to let you keep trying,” he has to give the kid credit for continuing everytime Cor said to start over, “though I may have gotten a bit frustrated when you didn’t do anything about the obvious hurdle.”

 

“I…” Prompto moves a hand to the back of his head sheepishly, “...I see y-your point. Sorry.”

 

“Out the doors and down the hall to your right,” Cor gestures, “there’s a water fountain. You said you need thirty?”

 

“Y-yes sir,” Prompto nods.

 

Cor narrows his eyes, “You sure about that, kid? I’m taking you at your word here, I’m still going to have you do those laps and work on those burpees when you come back. If you need more than thirty, you need to tell me.”

 

“I…” the blonde hesitates, looking down at the floor. “I...thirty is g-good.”

 

Thirty doesn’t seem good enough for a kid who just nearly passed out from heat exhaustion and had a panic attack right after, but Cor believes in saying what you mean, so he merely nods.

 

“Be back here in thirty then.”

 

Prompto nods, before turning on shaky legs and scrambling away from Cor and towards the door.

 

“Argentum,” Cor calls, just before the kid moves out of sight.

 

“Y-yes sir?”

 

“You’d better not have that damn hoodie on when you get back in here.”

 

It’s honestly impressive that the kid goes red enough in the face that Cor can see it from where he stands.

 

“Y-yes sir!”

 

…

 

“Do all guys in the Guard underestimate women?” Iris complains, sipping at some sugary-apocalypse of a drink from their normal post-training coffee spot. As if she didn’t just hand fifteen grown men’s asses to them.

 

“Well to be fair,” Gladio offers, “all of them were Crownsguard hopefuls.”

 

And sucky ones, to be perfectly honest. He knows from his browsing of the file rooms that everyone in that group was apparently super proficient in their weapon of choice. But today he and Iris realized two things together. One, taking away weapons really fucks with some people. Two, most of the new recruits haven’t heard of why it’s never a good idea to let Iris Amicitia get a good grip on your arm. 

 

“Kind of a sad batch, huh?” 

 

“I take it the trainees performed less than admirably?” 

 

Gladio grins, sliding the mug of Ebony he’d ordered over to the seat at his left, just as Ignis gracefully slides into it. “They sucked,” he states plainly.

 

“Hi Iggy!” Iris greets happily, “How’s it going?”

 

“Good afternoon,” Ignis gives her a smile, “and I’m afraid I’ve had just as disappointing of a day as you both.”

 

“No one you can trust to run things while you’re gone?” Gladio guesses. The three of them have all got projects going that need to be wrapped up or delegated before it’s time for them to leave, but Noct and Ignis have the unfortunate duty of finding people they trust to continue on with Noct’s refugee district reform legislation. It’s been an ongoing project that was great for boosting morale during the War as well as raising both Noct’s and the King’s approval ratings. Noct and Ignis, with the supervision of a few council members, had been handling all the meetings and official negotiations personally.

 

Before the treaty, it would have been much easier to find a small group of analysts and Citadel officials to take their place for a few months. But once the agreements with Niflheim reached the ears of those within the refugee districts, the Prince and his advisor’s jobs had gotten infinitely more difficult, with many of the people accusing them of trying to soften up the blow of them never being able to return to their homelands. The one saving grace was that Noctis himself had still retained the faith of most of the younger population in the district, though his father’s approval ratings hit a rock bottom. 

 

According to Ignis, the fact that Noctis will no longer be personally present has brought a lot of negotiations and legislation plans to a halt, as most are unwilling to deal with anyone but the Prince. Which has made planning for the next few months of their absence hard on them both.

 

“I’d been hopeful that Representative Lissandra Raem would be receptive to one of the Glaives stepping in to represent Noct at the new shelter opening,” Ignis sighs, taking a sip of that death-in-a-cup he likes to drink. “But unfortunately, that no longer seems to be the case. She’s talking about postponing the opening until Noctis returns to be able to make a personal appearance.”

 

Gladio arches an eyebrow at that, “We don’t even know when that will be. He may end up having to relocate to Altissia for a while after the wedding.”

 

“Exactly,” Ignis huffs, “but she insists that an appearance by the Prince is absolutely necessary. Otherwise she’s afraid that the people will boycott the shelter and see it as a distraction from the terms of the Treaty.”

 

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Iris mutters.

 

“To people desperate to be heard, it unfortunately does,” Ignis responds, seemingly calm. Gladio can tell he’s frustrated by the set of his shoulders and the fact that his lips are thinner than usual. “The idea behind it is this,” Ignis explains, “Noctis himself is a big part of the peace agreement, and his marriage to Lunafreya makes it so that he will arguably be one of the most influential figures to Niflheim. They hope that the more they can talk to him personally, the harder he’ll try to change things once the peace talks have settled.”

 

“That banks on the Niffs being anything other than the snakes that they are,” Gladio snorts, “no one’s getting their land back if Aldercapt doesn’t want to give it back, and there’s nothing that Noct can do that will make him want to give it back.”

 

“While that’s a...less than tactful way to put it,” Ignis states, as if Gladio has ever given a shit about tact. “Gladio is quite right,” the advisor states, “I’m afraid that they are setting themselves up for disappointment in this vein.”

 

“Speaking of setting oneself up for disappointment,” Gladio begins, because he knows that Ignis saw Noctis at some point over the weekend. Iris huffs in annoyance.

 

“Really Gladdy,” she complains, “already?”

 

“I imagine you’re asking after my conversation with his Highness from last night?” Ignis guesses, and Gladio watches as the set of his shoulders gets stiffer somehow and his lips go even more thin. Shit. He’s not frustrated over the refugee district thing at all, he’d been expecting it to be this way. Ignis is frustrated over his conversation with Noct.

 

“Digging his heels in?” Gladio asks. He’d figured that Noct would, but he’d also hoped that Ignis would be able to give the Prince some perspective. 

 

“I was told in no uncertain terms that we have to find a way to deal with it,” Ignis responds simply, “Noctis is set on Prompto accompanying us.”

 

“Great,” Gladio groans, “looks like I’m going to have to have a go at him.”

 

And he’s not looking forward to that argument.

 

“Or maybe you could respect his decision and let it go,” Iris suggests. They ignore her.

 

“Even with you pointing out all the bad things that could happen to Prompto?” Gladio presses.

 

“Noct seemed to be very worked up over these things actually,” Ignis says, “it did not seem like he’d accounted for them before making his decision, as he became visibly distressed when I pointed them out.”

 

“And he still wouldn’t listen to reason?” Gladio asks, mouth slightly agape. Noctis would kill for Prompto, Gladio thinks. He’d kill for Prompto over something miniscule (it’s part of the reason that Gladio dislikes that friendship. Noct has come close to losing control over his magic multiple times when Prompto has been involved), so to take him along when all the things that could wrong were pointed out?

 

“Indeed,” Ignis hums, sounding exhausted. “It makes me wonder what exactly Prompto said to convince Noct to do this.”

 

What.

 

“Whoa, whoa,” Gladio cuts in, “Wait. This was Prompto’s idea?”

 

“Oh no…” Iris groans.

 

“Indeed,” Ignis responds, “apparently Noct wants to give him the chance to prove himself.”

 

“Prompto?” Gladio can’t believe it, “the same Prompto that doesn’t know how to form an intelligent sentence?”

 

“That’s uncalled for, Gladdy.”

 

This changes things.

 

“We’ve been going about it wrong then,” Gladio decides, “the person we should be talking to is Prompto.” 

 

“Gladdy,” Iris mutters, “...no.”

 

“This is about Noct’s safety, Iris,” Gladio responds, unrepentant. “The next time I see the kid, him and I are gonna have a conversation.”

 

“Might I advise against that?” Ignis suggests.

 

“Why?” the Shield shrugs, “All I gotta do is make it clear that this is a dumbass idea. Iris says he’s smart.” 

 

“This is not why I told you…” his sister huffs.

 

“I agree with the sentiment,” Ignis concedes, “but I believe Prompto would be more receptive if I were to do this myself.”

 

“Not you too, Iggy!”

 

“Are sure sure?” Gladio is skeptical, “If you ask me, all ya gotta do is give him a good scare.”

 

“And you’re willing to deal with the fallout from Noctis if we intimidate his friend into changing his mind?” 

 

Gladio pauses. Takes a few seconds to think about that.

 

“Point,” he gives. “But if you aren’t able to reason with the kid,” the man goes on immediately, “then we do this my way.”

 

“I think you both are making a mistake,” Iris says simply, “but I guess boys will be boys, no matter what the age.”

 

Gladio can see Ignis about to take offence to that, so he cuts in before that particular rant can come up again.

 

“Talk to the kid soon, yeah?” he suggests. The sooner they deal with it, the more time they’ll have to placate a pissy Noctis before they leave. “And let me know how it goes.”

 

Ignis nods, “I'll pay him a visit tomorrow night, if time allows.”

 

“This is a really bad idea,” Iris says solemnly.

 

Once again, they ignore her. 

 

…

 

Cor has to give Prompto credit. The kid really does end up needing only thirty minutes.

 

The boy shuffles in at the twenty-eight minute mark, hoodie curled up in his arms, bright yellow chocobo shirt (that he's completely sweated through) on display. And then proceeds to run the five laps in three quarters of the time that Cor had thought it would take.

 

Instead of going right back into the exercise from before, Cor decides to spend some time having the kid run through more isolated workouts. They're certainly less demanding, but it allows Cor to observe that Prompto has a lot of strength in his legs, and a workable amount of strength in his arms and core. The kid definitely won't be wielding a greatsword or a lance by the time of the trip, but he's got enough fortitude that Cor thinks that they can do something decent in the time that they have.

 

It certainly helps that Argentum is a surprisingly tenacious student. Whether it be from determination or pure stubbornness, Cor finds himself stopping the boy before he hurts himself trying to continue when he really should stop.

 

They'll have to work on that, he decides. Those who push themselves to the point of injury are detrimental to a group effort. Cor’s admittedly surprised though. Argentum may not make eye contact, and his stuttering and fidgeting may be pitiful, but he's definitely not the weakling Cor came into today thinking that he was. Already he's beginning to see how this kid may have convinced the Prince to let him do this.

 

They run the motions of burpees together again, after a while. Cor isn't stupid, he knows that he's pushed Prompto too hard so far to expect the kid to be able to complete three sets, but the kid turns out to be very receptive to criticism. He's able to perfect his form enough to do half of a set by 2pm.

They wrap the session with another round of stretches, and Cor notices the kid looking more and more somber as they come to a close.

 

“Something on your mind, kid?” Cor asks, leading Prompto out of the hall and down in the direction of the locker rooms. He should have told the kid to bring a change of clothes, in retrospect. Cor’s going to end up having to lend him a shirt.

 

Prompto doesn't answer right away, instead choosing to fiddle with his glasses. But Cor’s got patience. So he waits.

 

“I-...” The kid cuts himself off with a huff. “I'm sorry t-that I wasted your time, Marshal.”

 

Cor examines Prompto's face at this, and it's clear as day that the kid is frustrated and disappointed in himself. He shouldn't be.

 

“Think I would have kept you here this long if it was a waste of time, Argentum?” He asks bluntly. “You're no ace by any means,” Cor states plainly, “but you've proven that you're worth some time and effort.”

 

Whether they have enough time before Altissia, that's a completely different question. But if the kid's self-defense skills hold up well, then Cor believes that he may be able to make a fighter out of him. 

 

“R-really?” Prompto’s voice is breathless, and Cor turns to see the kid staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief. “What did I do?” He asks quietly, “S-so I can keep doing it?”

 

Prompto doesn't seem to be fishing for compliments. This disbelief on his face is as genuine as Cor has ever seen. The kid truly doesn't understand why Cor may be willing to continue training him.

 

Cor thinks of the kid trying to do the burpees, exhausted and overheating and clearly miserable. But still willing to try until Cor had given him a task even the kid had to accept was impossible unless he spoke up. He shrugs.

 

“You didn't give up,” Cor admits, “you're probably going to hate me by the time all of this is over and done with, but if you keep putting your head down and doing it, we may be able to get somewhere.”

 

“Now go shower,” he gestures to the entrance to the men's locker room, “I'll find you another shirt to put on, and then I'll take you back home.” 

 

Prompto throws an odd look to lockers rooms. It's too early in their time actually speaking for Cor to understand what it is, but he immediately gets the feeling that he doesn't like it.

 

“O-ok…” the kid murmurs, shuffling hesitantly to the doors. 

 

“I'll come in and leave the shirt on a bench while you're in the showers,” Cor grunts, “don't take forever kid, I still have a few other things to take care of today.”

 

“Y-yes sir,” the blonde nods, before pushing through the doors and disappearing inwards. Cor doesn't wait on ceremony, pivoting to make his way to his office on this floor (because he somehow has an office on every military-oriented floor of the Citadel).  

 

It's empty, because no one else is using the training hall on this floor, which is the only reason that anyone would be on this floor in the first place. So there's no one around to ask him a million questions about the kid's progress like he's sure he's going to start getting soon. It's basically spread across the entire Citadel what the deal with Prompto is by now.

 

Cor grabs one of his spare shirts, a plain black t shirt with an inverted skull subtly designed in dark blue on the chest, and doesn't linger.

 

One of the showers is indeed going strong when he returns to the locker room. And it doesn't take long to locate the kid's clothes folded up on a bench near the opening into the showers. Namely, the kid's bright yellow chocobo shirt.

 

Cor stares at it curiously as he leaves his own shirt next to it. It's tacky and ugly and one of the most ridiculous things that he's ever seen, but it's a surprising expression of personality from someone Cor knows to be so subdued that most people have never even heard him laugh. 

 

It makes him think of just how little he knows of Prompto Argentum beyond the fact that the kid has no criminal record, has held six part time jobs since he was fifteen, and was in the top five in the Prince's class alongside Noctis, who was number one. Does the kid even like chocobos? Or was the shirt a gag gift? 

 

Well, Cor thinks to himself as he eases out of the locker room to instead wait for the kid just outside of it. Looks like I've got seven weeks to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, here me out. Prompto often seems to be a pretty anxious person in general, but his joking and boisterous nature tend to play it off. This version of Prompto doesn't have the aforementioned bravado to fall back on, so I'd imagine that when faced with a situation where his anxiety spikes (i.e the Immortal seeming not pleased and harsh with him and Prompto not quite understanding why), there are are no jokes and self-deprecating humor, only stress. And Cor is firm, but he's not a dick, so I imagine that he's not going to let this kid just have a breakdown in front of him without intervening, especially considering he knows that Prompto has trouble with things like this. 
> 
> On the topic of Iggy and Gladio, our lovely little meddlers. In this 'verse, Noctis is a pretty firm wall in between them and Prompto. And so naturally they'd feel like they have to do a bit of a go-around, especially considering the fact that they feel like their duties are on the line here. Prompto is too much of an unknown factor for them to be comfortable with at this moment, so naturally they're going to try and make it right.
> 
> Anyways, I hoped ya'll enjoyed. I'll admit, I got kind of sidetracked with NaNoRiMo, so I'm not as far ahead in this as I'd like to be, but I can still confidently say that this will probably be one of my more regularly updated fics. So please stay tuned for more! Remember to be happy and healthy! Until next time!


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Personal?” Ignis arches an eyebrow. It dawns on hims that Noctis did in fact say that he wasn’t quite sure what pushed Prompto to make this decision now of all times. “Do you not wish to share?” the advisor presses, because while Noctis may be content in letting this small fact go unknown, Ignis is not. Intent is everything.
> 
> “I-I don’t…” Prompto answers quietly, “s-sorry.”
> 
> “You understand that there are those that will question your commitment if you’re unwilling to explain your motive?” Ignis asks bluntly. 
> 
> “A-all d-due respect, Ignis,” Prompto counters, “b-but I think that they’re g-going to question it anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all! And with it, I bring another chapter!
> 
> I'd just like to say that I am still overjoyed with the response to this story, it definitely keeps me wanting to write and helps me push away my college student laziness/procrastination hahaha. 
> 
> That being said, I present to you all, the latest update of our beautiful Shy Boy.

The first thing that Prompto registers as his eyes snap open at 4:15 am on a Tuesday morning, is that he has an annoying ass alarm. 

 

The thought takes him aback, because Prompto normally likes to wake up to the sound of chocobos chirping. He sits up in bed to reach for his phone. And then he feels it.

 

“Ugh…” the blonde groans and flops right back down. Because his entire body hurts. No, that's the wrong word for it. His entire body  _ aches _ . The type of ache that pulses in time with his heartbeat. The type of ache that any type of movement draws attention to. The type of ache that comes with muscles being pushed to the breaking point and returning back with a vengeance. It's not an ache that Prompto is unfamiliar with. He feels it in his legs when he pushes himself a bit too hard in his daily runs. In his arms sometimes when he spots Nyx at the gym. In his thighs when he holds a stretch for a little longer than he's used to. 

 

He's never had it all over his entire body at one time though.

 

Prompto huffs as his alarm keeps ringing, flailing his arm about in the dark until his hand meets the metallic material of the fancy phone case Nyx had gotten him for his last birthday. It takes a few taps to silence the thing, and by the time he does, Prompto has ignored the ache in his body to sit up in bed. 

 

The blonde groans, flicking on his lamp and observing his room as though it doesn't look exactly the same as it did yesterday. 

 

He supposes that he should have expected the ache across his entire body. Nyx was right, Cor pushed him harder yesterday than he's ever been pushed in his life. Prompto understands that part of it was his own fault. 

 

He was a complete idiot for keeping that heavy fleece hoodie on while working out. All because he felt self-conscious about the fact that Cor is so obviously built, and Prompto is a twig. 

 

And as Prompto drags himself out of bed and towards his bathroom in hopes that a warm shower will somewhat alleviate the ache in his muscles, he finds himself surprised at just how patient Cor was with him. Prompto knows that he didn't perform anywhere near the level expected of a Crownsguard, much less a personal guard to the Prince of Lucis. And yet Cor had said that it wasn't a waste. He'd even said that Prompto may be worth some time and effort after all.

 

“I don't get it…” Prompto murmurs aloud as he runs the water for his shower. 

 

Cor says that he saw something in Prompto, yesterday, and the Marshal doesn't seem like the type of person to lie or try to spare someone's feelings. But Prompto doesn't understand. He's not a fighter, never has been. Nyx has always said that Prompto has a raw talent to him, but the blonde doesn't understand that either. The only thing he imagines that he impressed with yesterday was running. 

 

The blonde snorts derisively as he steps into the tub.  _ Running _ . Something anyone human being can get good at if they just  _ try _ . And what good is being able to run, anyway? Noctis can warp. There's no doubt that Ignis and Gladio can stand and face adversity without having a panic attack like Prompto did when Cor got aggressive.

 

He couldn't even go into the Citadel locker rooms without freezing up for a second beforehand. All because of some high school bullies that aren't even relevant anymore. Prompto isn't fit to do this. He doesn't even know if he can  _ fake  _ being fit to do this.

 

_ Still _ , Prompto thinks as he turns the water off and steps out. Cor’s expecting him today. The Marshal didn't drop him after the first day. And though Prompto hardly thinks he can live up to expectations, he's still going to ride it out as long as possible. Because though Prompto is a failure, he's always promised himself that he would never be a quitter. 

 

The blonde passes his desk on the way to his closet. The desk that holds a stack of letters in one of the drawers. One letter in particular that Prompto keeps thinking about lately. 

 

“There's people rooting for you,” he mutters to himself, “don't give up.” 

 

…

 

“Today I'm going to have you run a few obstacle courses.” 

 

Noctis had once joked that if Prompto didn't start letting him win once in a while at Moogle Cart, that he would have the blonde thrown into the catacombs of the Citadel. Prompto had already learned and gotten used to the Prince's sometimes-extreme brand of humor (that he apparently only used around Prompto and Nyx, because Ignis complained that it was inappropriate and Gladio always took him too seriously), so he'd merely chuckled in response and said he'd always suspected that the Citadel hid a large underground channel of tunnels. 

 

Prompto had been joking.

 

But looking at the large obstacle course just casually situated in yet another colossal underground training hall beneath the Citadel, Prompto realizes that maybe Noctis wasn't. (At least about there being Catacombs. Because Prompto has never let Noctis win at Moogle Cart, and he doesn't plan on doing so anytime soon.) 

 

“Your speed is impressive,” Cor compliments, “and your stamina is respectable. But very rarely will you find yourself running on a level track. Especially if you're fighting for your life at the same time.”

 

Cor cuts his eyes over, and Prompto nods to show he understands. It's nice, the blonde realizes, that the Marshal apparently accepts that he's no good at verbal communication and is making an effort to look for nonverbal cues. 

 

“This is rather standard, all things considered,” Cor begins walking along the railing of the overlook they walked onto. “you'll follow the given path. You'll be jumping a lot, and there will be several changes in incline, but it doesn't have much in the way of variation until you get to the monkey bars and the wall at the end.”

 

The Marshal points these two out as he speaks, and Prompto can what he means. The monkey bars are long, and very high up, the blonde realizes. There looks to be a ramp going up to them for one jump off, but there's no ladder like there was on the community playground. The wall is even more intimidating. It's really just a wall with netting stretched over the surface for handholds, but it's an uncomfortably tall wall for someone afraid of heights.

 

“We'll do a round of stretches to warm up,” Cor begins to lead him down the stairs at the end of the walkway, “and then you'll run the course.”

 

“Y-yes sir,” Prompto acknowledges. He rubs at his arms a bit. The training hall is air conditioned, and he's thankfully wearing a plain red t-shirt today.

 

“I won't time you the first time,” Cor states, “I'll give you a chance to familiarize yourself with the course.”

 

“O-ok…”

 

“But don't expect me to do that every time,” Cor warns sternly, “this is one of five courses that you'll be running. This is the only one I'm going to let you try out first before I start imposing a time limit.”

 

Prompto gulps.

 

“And as always,” the Marshal removes his jacket to begin demonstrating the stretches he wants Prompto to do, “you fail to meet an acceptable time, you do it over from the beginning.”

 

“Y-yes sir,” Prompto responds quietly. 

 

Going through the stretches is easy. Prompto had an obsession with stretching when he first started trying to slim down. He'd started with only running, but quickly integrated yoga into his routine when Nyx suggested it.

 

The course itself isn't even that difficult outright. Prompto moves carefully the first time, trying to conserve his energy for when it's going to really matter, and quickly finds that it's just a big kid version of some of the courses he'd done in gym back in high school. 

 

The inclines are gentle, but the downward slopes that follow them are significantly steeper. Prompto knows how to control his speed to not wipe out on a hill though, so it doesn't trip him up. When he has to run through tires, that's a bit more annoying, because the motions of raising his legs so high pulls at his already achy leg muscles. He persists though, and clears them without falling flat in his face. 

 

The problems start when he reaches the monkey bars. 

 

Because firstly, the ramp that leads up to them is not nearly high enough for Prompto to reach the bars just by jumping. It doesn't take him but a second to realize that he's going to need a running start.  He huffs inwardly, because really? Not everyone in the world can be six foot something, and only a select few in the world can warp. 

 

“They're a bit high for you, I suppose.” Cor notes mildy from where he's standing by. As if pointing it out aloud is helpful to Prompto in any way, shape or form. “Guess you'll have to get a pretty good running start.”

 

Prompto looks over at the older man. 

 

_ Is he making fun of me? _

 

Cor's face is completely unreadable. And Prompto has no basis for his assumption. After all, their interactions yesterday were the most he's spoken to the Immortal in all the years he's been coming to the Citadel. But he can't help but think that his height is being poked fun at. 

 

“Waiting for an invitation?”

 

Prompto startles, feeling his cheeks go hot at the way Cor raises his eyebrow. So many people that he knows do that. 

 

“U-uh…” he stammers, “N-no sir…”

 

He backs up several paces, a little unsure of how much a running start he is going to need, but figuring he’ll just wing it until something works. Mindful of the Marshal’s eyes, Prompto gets a burst of speed behind his strides and runs up the small ramp, jumping up with his arms raised to latch onto the bars.

 

He does not latch onto the bars.

 

Prompto lets out a small “oof” at the impact of his back with the floor, which thankfully made out of the same super expensive impact-absorbing material that all the training room floors are made out of. 

 

“Maybe a bit more of a running start.” Cor does an impressive job of sounding like he’s not judging him, but Prompto’s cheeks still burn with embarrassment as he picks himself up and holds back a groan at how his muscles seem to ache even more now.

 

“Yes s-sir…” the blonde mutters, walking back around the ramp and situating himself farther away this time. His fingers didn’t even brush the stupid bar. Prompto tries again.

 

“Oof!” 

 

“You got your hands around it that time,” Cor observes mildly, “next time try holding on.”

 

“R-right…” Prompto mutters as he gets back to his feet. He walks around and tries again.

 

“Oof!”

 

“Better,” the Marshal’s voice is completely blank, “now you just have to hold on for more than three seconds.”

 

“Yeah…” he wonders if the Immortal is secretly a troll. Like literally  _ everyone else  _ in the Citadel he’s been acquainted with. Prompto gets up and moves to try again. He doesn’t fall this time. The blonde has just enough time to mentally congratulate himself for getting (and keeping) a firm grip on the first bar. And then Cor’s voice rings out.

 

“This is the part where you want to start moving.”

 

“Y-yes sir…” Prompto responds absently, beginning to move his achy arms. 

 

He’s willing to bet one of his cameras that Cor is in fact a lowkey troll.

...

 

In retrospect, the way Ignis chooses to approach Prompto Argentum for the first time is...not one of his best moments. 

 

It's a decision born out of immense frustration, in the end. The summer before Noctis starts his second year in high school is supposed to be a very busy and productive transition for the Prince into more of his official duties.  

 

Ignis has it plotted out meticulously, from the end of May to the middle of August are all filled with appointments and meetings and learning sessions and the like. And for a while, Noctis adheres to the schedule without complaint. 

 

But soon the Prince begins to get overwhelmed, it seems. And not for no reason, there's a lot of things to cram into the time between school letting out and Noct's sixteenth birthday. And Noctis has always been the type to just deal with it until he, well...doesn't anymore.

 

Towards the end of June, Noctis begins to request for Ignis to change his schedule a bit. The advisor is able to comply because anyone who pays attention can see how unhappy the Prince seems when he no longer has school as a break from his duties. No longer has Prompto, really.

 

Because it doesn't take long for Ignis to figure out that Noctis asking to go to the library but requesting that neither him nor Gladio accompany him means that his blonde friend is somehow involved. 

 

It's probably Ignis’ own fault, that Noctis doesn't end up willingly introducing him to Prompto. He doesn't express any interest in meeting the boy until it's clear that he and Noct have become quite close in a short period of time. But by then, Ignis had already openly admitted to worrying about Prompto's intentions and that he would prove to be a distraction for Noct. So with that in mind, it's really no shocker that the Prince explicitly avoids allowing the two to be in the same place at the same time. 

 

Ignis takes his job very seriously though, even at eighteen. So when he starts insisting that Noct meet more of his appointments and the Prince's response is go around him and change them anyway without Ignis knowing, he starts to have a problem. And it becomes increasingly clear that it's because of Prompto Argentum. 

 

It even becomes a bit insulting when, upon Ignis inquiring why Noctis is allowed to just go meet this boy whenever he pleases, he finds out that the Prince had a background check on Prompto Argentum completed by a Kingsglaive as opposed to his advisor. A Glaive that apparently lives near the boy and volunteers to be the Prince's chaperone so that neither Ignis nor Gladio ever have to meet him if Noctis doesn't want them too. 

 

And by the end of the summer, when Ignis is at wit’s end by the fact council members are  _ talking  _ and Noctis isn't  _ caring _ , it's become more than clear than Noctis is never going to introduce his friend to his advisor. 

 

So Ignis takes it into his own hands. 

 

It's ridiculously easy, in the end, to force a meeting between Prompto Argentum and himself. After all, though Ignis has never seen him in person, he has access to the results of his background check. Which means he knows his address, and even his phone number.

 

Ignis does not call though, before he gets into his car one plain Sunday evening. Noctis is at dinner with the King, who for some reason has kept quiet about Noct's difficult behavior all summer so far, and Ignis’ research tells him that Prompto will most likely be home tonight.

 

Hindsight is 20/20, and Ignis will look back on this decision years from now with great regret. 

 

The neighborhood is small and packed, as most of the Crown City's refugee districts tend to be, but surprisingly lively as Ignis directs his vehicle through the streets at seven pm.

 

The sun is just beginning to set, which seems to set the red and gold decorations hanging about alight as though they're on fire. It's a beautiful sight, if he's honest with himself, and one he hears is quite common in these sorts of districts during the summer time.

 

The Insomnian heat is thick when Ignis steps out of his car, and the short walk to the apartment complex that Prompto and several Glaives live in is enough to have him building up a sweat. It's a quaint building, maybe six floors, but the balconies and fire escape steps are bright with personality from what Ignis sees as he walks in. 

 

There's no receptionist desk, only a long hallway with small lockers for mail that leads directly to a singular elevator. An interesting design, Ignis thinks, to not have any units on the first floor. It takes but a quick glance at a locker dubbed “Argentum” to let Ignis know that he's got the right place in mind, and he swiftly makes his way to the elevator. 

 

There's a bundle of nerves in his stomach at the thought of what exactly he's about to do. Ignis doesn't know anything about Prompto other than his name and that he is apparently very good at Art and Math. Prompto's physical description was not included in the copy of the background check that Ignis acquired, so he doesn't even really know what Prompto is supposed to look like. Other than the fact that he's apparently blonde with freckles. 

 

The advisor knows that he realistically doesn't have much reason to be worried. Prompto didn't raise any flags at all in his background check, so he's likely a normal teenage boy. Ignis imagines him to be a bit unruly, if Noct's sudden acts of rebellion are anything to go by, but that's nothing that the advisor isn't equipped to deal with. 

 

It isn't until he reaches apartment “606” that he realizes that his nerves are a result of him not knowing how Noctis is going to react to this. But he's already here, and he really does need to know more about this boy. So Ignis knocks.

 

And waits.

 

And waits.

 

When there's no answer, he knocks again, a bit harder this time.

 

And waits.

 

And waits.

 

The advisor stares at the door. All of his looking into Prompto's daily schedule suggests that the boy should be home at the moment. But then again, Ignis realizes, there does seem to be some summer celebration going on outside.

 

But all of Glaive Ulric’s accounts of the boy suggest that Prompto Argentum is not the type to participate in such an event. He seemingly only ever goes to school, his part time job, the public library, and home. 

 

Ignis raises his fist to try one more time, before the sound of deadbolts clicking reaches his ears. It's about time, he thinks privately.

 

The door swings open slightly, and a face peeks out. 

 

Prompto Argentum is decidedly not what Ignis was expecting.

 

And he has to believe that this is Prompto Argentum. There are no reports of him having any siblings, and the boy peering up at Ignis through large-framed glasses is certainly a teenager. He's also blond, but where Ignis expected some messy alternative type of hairstyle like how Noctis seems to be trying out lately, the boy's hair falls about his face and forehead neatly. He's about Noct's height, but where Ignis expected a carefree slouch and a maybe some t-shirt with a videogame logo, the boy's posture is undoubtedly guarded and he's wearing a plain red sweatshirt in the summertime. 

 

Prompto Argentum does have freckles, and the eyes behind his glasses are an interesting mix of blue and violet. Eyes that are one hundred percent regarding Ignis nervously at the moment.

 

“H-hello…?” The boy's voice is soft, and his grip on the door is tight. Ignis notes how he doesn't open it all the way.

 

_ Well _ , Ignis thinks,  _ time to get to the bottom of this and make my stance clea _ r.

 

“Prompto Argentum?” He inquires pleasantly. 

 

“Um…” the blonde mutters uncomfortably, “W-who...Who a-are you?”

 

_ He stutters _ , Ignis notes, _ a speech impediment maybe? _

 

“Are you Prompto Argentum?” Ignis presses slightly. He's almost positive that this is Prompto, but until he confirms it, it won't do to go around announcing himself as the Prince's advisor.

 

“Y-yes?” The boy responds, “C-can I help you?”

 

“My name is Ignis Scientia,” the advisor states, and waits for an expression of recognition. There is none.

 

“O-Ok?”

 

So Noctis has not talked about him to Prompto then. It's not too surprising, considering how separate the Prince has wanted his home life to be from his school life this past year.

 

“I am an associate of Prince Noctis,” he says. Noct may not have mentioned him by name, but Ignis doesn't know if he's used the term ‘advisor’ and in what context. He’s here to see Prompto for himself and confirm that he has no ill intentions towards Noct. It may be best if the blonde doesn't know how close he is to the Prince.

 

“Oh…” Prompto does not relax at hearing this. If anything, he clams up more. Interesting.

 

“May I come in?” Ignis asks, after a moment of waiting. Manners could use some work, but he supposes that this can be said about most teenagers. 

 

“Uh-I…” Prompto tenses even more at the question, “W-why?”

 

Ignis stares. 

 

“So that we may speak?” He responds, hoping that his steadily growing impatience isn't apparent.

 

“A-” the blonde gulps audibly, “a-about what?”

 

This isn't working, Ignis decides.

 

“If I may be candid, Prompto,” Ignis states calmly, moving a hand to his hip. “Prince Noctis had been skipping out on several important meetings this summer to spend time with you,” he states bluntly. Prompto flinches. “And I merely thought it was time to put a face to the name and ask some questions that should be asked.” 

 

“L-like what?” Prompto mutters.

 

“What are you expecting out of your friendship with the Crown Prince?” Ignis responds, “Inquiries of that nature. I really feel as though it would be better if we spoke inside.”

 

“I-I’m not expecting a-anything,” Prompto protests, becoming visibly distressed at the notion. Ignis wants to say that he's being sincere, but he could also just be upset that someone is finally calling him on it. “I-I...I just l-like hanging out with him.”

 

“At the expense of his duties to the Crown City?” Ignis arches an eyebrow.

 

“N-no!” The boy's eyes get very wide, “I-just. That's- it-! I-it’s not like  _ that _ !”

 

“Isn't it though?” The frustration that's been building the entire summer begins to force its way to the surface. “Prince Noctis has missed almost every single council meeting he was scheduled to attend in the past month.”

 

“I-I don't k-know anything about t-that!” Prompto insists, “He- he asks m-me to meet h-him and then I do!”

 

“Surely you can't believe that the Crown Prince if Insomnia has time to go hang out at the public library five days a week?” Ignis challenges. He can see Prompto's hands shaking. Good. Someone is taking him seriously. 

 

“I d-don’t know!” the blonde whines miserably.

 

“Are your parents home?” Ignis asks, “Perhaps they can let me in and we can talk about a more appropriate arrangement.”

 

“N-no,” Prompto's eyes get even bigger, “t-they aren't h-home.”

 

“Well I would prefer to reach an agreement tonight,” Ignis reaches into his pocket for his phone, fed up. “I'll phone them.”

 

“W-what?” The color drains from the boy's face, “Y-you d-don’t have their n-numbers though…”

 

“Of course I do,” Ignis brings up his contact folders, no longer looking at Prompto. “I have the information from your background check, which also includes emergency contact info given to your school.”

 

“H-how c-c-can you have t-that?” Prompto squeaks, “A-aren't there pr-privacy laws?”

 

“They do not apply when taking the Prince's wellbeing into account,” Ignis states, scrolling through the folders. “And while it is heartwarming that Prince Noctis has made a friend, the issues that have arose simply can't be ignored any longer.”

 

“P-please s-stop,” Prompto's voice breaks, and Ignis looks up to see the boy near tears. “M-my parents a-are at the s-summer party. T-they d-don't get much t-time t-to do things like t-that. P-please don't bother them.”

 

Ignis huffs, unmoved.

 

“Then allow me to discuss it with you now,” he takes a step forward, “if you would just let me in and allow me to ask what I need to ask and say what I need to say, then this would go much smoother.”

 

“W-why i-isn't Noctis here?” Prompto asks, still not opening the door. “Sh-shouldn’t h-he be involved?”

 

“That's not necessary,” Ignis responds, “this may be about him, but the root of the issue is you. So it is you and I who need to reach a consensus.”

 

“I…” the blonde’s voice trembles, and Ignis might feel bad if he wasn't so annoyed right now. “I-I don't know y-y-you. A-and you d-don't really know m-me either.”

 

“On the contrary,” Ignis retorts, voice sharp. “I know you are Prompto Argentum, fifteen years old. You go to Central Crown High School because of your advanced test scores in Mathematics. You hold a part time job at a used comic book store which you only work on weekend mornings. You are in decent physical shape and you go for a run every morning and sometimes at night as well. You are an Insomnian citizen but you were not born in Insomnia, but your origin is unknown because you were adopted from a nondisclosure orphanage for war refugees.”

 

“I know a great deal about you, Prompto,” Ignis concludes, crossing his arms. “And all you need to know about me,” he snaps, “is that I have a duty to Prince Noctis that I take very seriously and the longer you make it difficult for me to perform my duty, the more convinced I am that you are not the correct company for Noct to keep.”

 

Prompto sucks in a sharp breath. Ignis scowls, unwavering even as he berates himself inwardly for slipping up and referring to Noctis by a nickname in front of the boy. They stand at an impasse for a few moments, and once it becomes clear that the blonde still doesn't plan on letting Ignis in any time soon, the advisor opens his mouth again. 

 

And Prompto bursts into tears.

 

Ignis’ mouth snaps shut.

 

“I-” The blonde hiccups, face going a concerning shade of red as he attempts to form a sentence while holding back his sobs. “I-just! That's not  _ fair _ ! I-I d-didn’t m-me-mean to!” He gasps, bringing up an arm to press against his face, “Y-you, I-I don't e-even  _ know  _ y-you! B-but- I- I don't get it! A-and n-now you're  _ threat- _ . Just! W-why a-are you doing this to me!?”

 

Ignis stares as the boy gets more and more worked up, sobs echoing uncomfortably loud in the hall. He's made an egregious error in judgement. 

 

“Prompto,” he tries tentatively. Ignis doesn't know why he thought that this would be a good idea. He allowed his frustrations to get the better of him and now he's taken it out on someone who doesn't deserve it. “Prompto,” he calls again when the boy doesn't stop stammering.

 

“What do you  _ want  _ from me?” The blonde grits out between clenched teeth.

 

“I…” Ignis gulps, “I must apologize. I merely wanted to meet you and judge your character for myself.”

 

He still doesn't know that Prompto isn't a potential problem for Noct, but Ignis does know that no one deserves to be berated to the point of a breakdown at their own front door. 

 

“It seems I've underestimated my own cross feelings over the situation,” Ignis admits, “And I've behaved extremely inappropriately because of it.”

 

Prompto doesn't know him. He doesn't even know Ignis’ title. For him to throw all of those facts from the background check in the boys face...The boy must be terrified.

 

“I am Prince Noctis’ Royal Advisor,” Ignis states, “I don't want you believing that just anyone came here today and has access to your information.” 

 

“N-Noctis t-told me that his advisor was  _ nice _ ,” Prompto whispers, talking more to himself than to Ignis. But it doesn't stop the words from hitting their mark.

 

“I am truly sorry about the way I've approached you today,” Ignis says sincerely, ashamed of himself. He steps back away from the door. “However, I believe I owe you this honesty,” Ignis says softly, “I regret how I've handled this, but not that I tried.”

 

“W-what?” Prompto lowers his arm to stare at Ignis in disbelief. His glasses are askew and his cheeks are still wet with fresh tears.

 

“The fact remains,” Ignis tries not to feel bad for saying this, “I needed to meet you if you're going to occupy so much of the Prince's time. I just regret that it came about in this way.”

 

There's silence for a moment, only broken by the occasional sniffle from Prompto and the jovial sounds of people enjoying the summer evening from outside. Ignis notes that the Sun has set fully now.

 

“Is there anything I can do to make this right for you?” Ignis slips into damage control mode, already dreading how hard this is going to be to explain to Noct. Prompto bites his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

 

“Please…” the blonde murmurs, “Pl-please just g-go away…”

 

Ignis has no right to feel a pang of hurt at that. He knows that he has no right. It doesn't stop the uncomfortable realization that he's never had someone make him feel like such a bad guy before.

 

“As you wish,” he responds anyway, bowing his head slightly before turning around to leave. He'd apologize again, but it's obvious that his presence has severely agitated the boy. It's best that Ignis just make his exit. He doesn't look back, and he doesn't hear the door shut until he's right at the elevator.

 

Ignis finds himself pondering whether or not this was worth the damage he's done not only to Prompto, but likely to the blonde’s friendship with the Prince. The advisor pushes the button for the ground floor and thinks about how excited Noct looks whenever he's going to meet his friend. He decides that no, it wasn't. He should have put more thought and effort into this.

 

_ I fucked up _ , Ignis thinks.

 

…

 

Noctis thinks so to, if the voice that bellows out from the Prince's bedroom two days later is any indication.

 

“ _ Ignis _ ! What the actual  _ fuck _ !?”

 

…

 

Years later, Ignis finds himself standing in front of Prompto Argentum’s door again. There a great deal of things that are different this time.

 

They're both older, for one. Ignis is twenty-three and has settled in comfortably in his role as Noct's Hand. He himself holds a council seat, and is an experienced Crownsguard Spy, having participated in several missions to survey Imperial bases in the time before the Treaty. Prompto will turn twenty-one later this year, and is an Honors Graduate in the top percentile of his class taking community college courses even while holding Scholarship offers from all major universities in the Crown City. The blonde is also very well-known amongst the staff of the Citadel. 

 

They have a tentative agreement to stay out of each other's way, for two. Well, that's how Ignis interprets it at least. Prompto is nice and charming in his own terribly shy way, but Ignis quite frankly doesn't like the boy very much. He certainly doesn't  _ dislike  _ him, as Gladio and several others of the Citadel do, but Ignis has never been privy to the side of Prompto that people like Noctis and Nyx Ulric are privy to. Their conversations are polite and to the point when they have to speak, but in no way can they be considered friends.

 

The things that remains the constant for them both is Noctis, for better or worse. Once again, Ignis finds himself questioning the effect Prompto is having on Noct's life. Once again, he's been unsuccessful in bringing it up to Noctis himself and now has to speak to the source directly. 

 

_ This time though _ , Ignis thinks, this time he'll do it right. It's not Noct's reputation and standing as the Crown Prince that's on the line here. It's his life.

 

So he knocks. 

 

And he waits. 

 

The only appropriate word to describe the younger man when he opens the door is “exhausted”. 

 

“Ignis?” Prompto questions, leaning against the door frame lazily. He's wearing one of Noct's sweaters, Ignis notes mildly.

 

“Good evening,” the advisor nods in return. “Might I have a bit of your time?” 

 

Prompto, to his credit, looks entirely unsurprised. His eyes are droopy behind his glasses (sleek and modern with black metal frames, Ignis wonders if Prompto knows that he helped Noctis pick out that particular birthday present last year), and his posture is as meek as usual, but he regards Ignis with a sense of resignation. Like he knows exactly why the older is here.

 

“Y-yeah,” the blonde murmurs, “come in.”

 

Prompto steps back to allow Ignis to cross the threshold of his home. Already, this is a groundbreaking moment. 

 

Ignis has never seen the inside of Prompto's apartment before. He's never felt welcome ever since that day years ago, and Prompto has never breached that wall. Which isn't surprising, because Ignis has heard that the blonde does not like having people in his apartment, and very few get a pass on that. 

 

It's a very simple design that Ignis walks into. The entrance hallway is standard, with a coat rack and several pairs of shoes situated next to it. Ignis thinks about taking his own shoes off to be polite, but Prompto is watching him from where the blonde shuts the door, and the advisor suddenly isn’t sure how Prompto will take any gesture of familiarity at the moment.  

 

The hallway opens up to a cozy looking living area. The decor is minimalist, a well-used couch with a mahogany coffee table centered in the living room. A humble entertainment system that holds a 4k smart TV and the latest high tech gaming console that seems incredibly out of place amongst the other adornments in the room. Ignis remembers arguing with Noctis about buying such expensive gifts for Prompto. The Prince had responded that he'd had to coerce the blonde into accepting them. 

 

The space is...bare. For lack of a more appropriate term. Ignis can't tell from first glance what type of people live here. He wonders if Prompto's parents are around at the moment, but figures that the absolute silence other than Prompto's soft breathing means that the blonde was home alone when Ignis showed up. 

 

“Y-you can s-sit, if you want,” the younger male murmurs, moving past Ignis towards an opening that seems to lead to a kitchen. “I k-know you like coffee,” Prompto’s voice is just barely audible from the kitchen, “b-but all I have i-is tea?”

 

“That would be lovely,” Ignis responds amicably, deciding not to admit that he generally hates tea. 

 

“I have a chai b-blend…” comes the quiet offer.

 

“Whatever you are having will be more than sufficient,” Ignis answers, looking down briefly at his watch. It’s after eight, he’d like to get this over and done with.

 

“C-cream? Or s-sugar?”

 

“No thank you,” Ignis looks around the room some more, attempting to catalogue some finer details. But there’s nothing really noteworthy. There’s not even any photos or artwork hanging up anywhere. Ignis would hazard a guess that the apartment looked exactly like this, minus the TV and gaming console, when the family moved in, and no one has changed it in all these years. 

 

About five minutes pass before Prompto emerges from the kitchen with two plain mugs in his hand. He quickly passes one to Ignis before situating himself against the wall next to the entry hallway, eyeing the advisor cautiously. 

 

Ignis wants to insist that Prompto sit himself on the couch as well, it is his home after all, but he’s not blind to the fact that the blonde seems to become more guarded the longer Ignis is present. The tea is his mug smells sharp and spicy, so Ignis is careful with his first sip. 

 

The advisor finds himself fighting to maintain a composed countenance. Because I, is the tea spicy. 

 

If Prompto notices Ignis’ reaction to the sudden burning sensation in his mouth and throat from just one small sip of the blonde’s tea blend, he doesn’t mention it. 

 

Ignis clears his throat, “I imagine you know why I’ve visited you tonight,” and attempts to proceed on as normal. 

 

“I...think I have a p-pretty good idea…”

 

“How is your training with Cor fairing so far?” Ignis asks, curious despite everything. Prompto’s eyes widen slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting that particular question.

 

“O-ok, I guess?” the blonde shrugs, “I d-don’t really know.”

 

“Hmm,” Ignis hums with a nod, “May I ask you a question, Prompto?”

 

“G-go for it.”

 

“What made you decide to take up Crownsguard training now?” Ignis asks plainly. “I know that it’s been suggested to you before, and you’ve showed no interest. What has changed?”

 

“Um…” Prompto fidgets a little bit, and then proceeds to take a large gulp of his daemon tea. Ignis winces, but the blonde seems no worse for wear. “I…” the blonde mutters, “i-it’s kind of personal…”

 

“Personal?” Ignis arches an eyebrow. It dawns on hims that Noctis did in fact say that he wasn’t quite sure what pushed Prompto to make this decision now of all times. “Do you not wish to share?” the advisor presses, because while Noctis may be content in letting this small fact go unknown, Ignis is not. Intent is everything.

 

“I-I don’t…” Prompto answers quietly, “s-sorry.”

 

“You understand that there are those that will question your commitment if you’re unwilling to explain your motive?” Ignis asks bluntly. 

 

“A-all d-due respect, Ignis,” Prompto counters, “b-but I think that they’re g-going to question it anyway.”

 

Ignis doesn't respond, willing to concede to that point. He takes another sip of the tea to be polite.

 

“Prompto,” he begins reasonably, once the burn settles. “The Marshal has no doubt imparted the importance of this trip on you, yes?” 

 

“He has.”

 

Ignis hums again. “You understand that Gladiolus and Myself have had years and  _ years  _ of training as well as field experience?” He asks. “We are the Prince's retainers, and thus have had different duties than most, but we are in fact still Crownsguard. Which means we have participated in official missions for the Crown both inside the Wall and out.”

 

Prompto nods meekly, but seems to be waiting for the point. 

 

“Do you doubt our abilities to take care of the Prince?” Ignis questions. Admittedly, the advisor poses the question just for the sake of making Prompto uncomfortable in hopes that the boy will let his actual reasoning slip out. But once the words are out, Ignis finds that he is genuinely curious. He has no idea what Prompto thinks of Gladio or himself, but he doesn't imagine it to be very positive. Though the idea is laughable at best, maybe the blonde legitimately thinks that Noctis needs him for protection.

 

“N-no...of c-course not!” Prompto's eyes widen nervously, “You t-two are great!”

 

“Interesting,” Ignis nods thoughtfully. The answer seems honest enough. “Then I suppose you believe that you will have no trouble keeping up with us?”

 

“I-” Prompto cuts his own words short, looking off to the side. 

 

“Because that is what you will need to do,” Ignis continues on, voice very matter-of-fact. “A Crownsguard is only as valuable as their proficiency in performing their duty. As a personal guard to the Prince, your duty would be to safeguard him with your life. Noctis is very powerful in his own right,” he explains, “but Gladio and myself have been specifically trained and tested on compensating where Noctis is not as skilled.” 

 

“There is a practiced dynamic between the three of us,” Ignis goes on firmly, “a balance, if you will. You may be able to throw a punch and you may even be able to pin Noctis down when he isn't using any of his magic or weaponry, but do you truly believe that you have the time to make yourself a part of that balance?”

 

Ignis realizes how unkind his words sound without having to think about it too much. And even if he didn't, the way Prompto seems to make himself smaller as he bites his lip gives it away. But Ignis isn't here to be kind. He's here to pick Prompto's brain, to try an understand the motive behind this sudden decision that may have a pinnacle effect on the Prince's life.

 

“I…”

 

“Sunshine!” A voice calls jovially from the other side of the front door. Prompto jolts and his mouth snaps shuts, cheeks running red as Ignis arches an eyebrow. “Your magazines got put in my mail slot again! You want ‘em? Or are you knocked out from training right now?”

 

There's a mildly awkward silence as Prompto's mouth opens and closes without a sound. Ignis wagers that the blonde must be deciding whether or not to invite the owner of the voice - Nyx Ulric, most likely- into the apartment. The advisor finds himself privately hoping that Prompto will allow the Glaive to get bored and walk away. He felt as though he was getting somewhere.

 

The lock to the front door clicks, and the door opens a second later. Nyx Ulric walks comfortably into the room not a second after, the sound of the door swinging shut punctuating how he pauses in the entryway at the sight of Ignis on the couch and Prompto against the wall. 

 

“Huh,” Nyx, to his credit, merely fixes Ignis with a curious look. “Ok then?”

 

“Glaive Ulric,” Ignis acknowledges with a respectful nod, bringing the monstrous tea up to have another sip. He's mildly irritated, because he knows that his and Prompto's conversation is over now. After all, the only person who comes close to Noctis in terms of being protective over the blonde is Nyx Ulric, from what the advisor has heard. 

 

Ignis is also curious though, because he's never seen these two interact up close before and whatever happens here now may shed some insight onto Prompto's thoughts. 

 

Prompto looks at Nyx in a way that tells Ignis that the boy is both mildly exasperated and embarrassed. But more than that, he looks relieved. Ignis had been getting somewhere, then. 

 

“Advisor Scientia,” the Glaive nods back, “come to experience a little bit of sunshine?”

 

“Nyx…” Prompto's embarrassed whine confirms that the older man was in fact talking about the blonde when using the word “sunshine”.

 

“I'd hoped to have a candid discussion with Prompto about his Crownsguard training,” Ignis responds smoothly. Nyx hums thoughtfully.

 

“Candid, huh?” The Glaive repeats quietly, before grinning toothily at Ignis. “Coming to give him some pointers, I assume?” Nyx asks, “To help him out?”

 

“In an manner of speaking,” Ignis responds carefully, already recognizing a look in Nyx’s eyes that he's seen in Noct's time and again. He'll never understand just what it is about Prompto that inspires such a fierce protective streak.

 

“That's pretty cool of you,” Nyx continues to smile, even as he moves to hand Prompto a stack of magazines that Ignis has just noticed. His stance puts him in between Ignis and the blonde. “Supporting your would-be-ally and all.” The Glaive goes on, “It's nice to see brothers-in-arms build each other up rather than try and tear each other down. Especially when they don't know each other very well.”

 

Prompto is glancing nervously between the two older men by now, and Ignis recognizes that he's overstayed his welcome. 

 

“Yes well,” Ignis says amicably, “I'm afraid that I must be going soon. I didn't have much time as it was, what with the wedding details, but I did find it important to check in with Prompto.”

 

“Sure you can't stay for some Galahdian takeout?” Nyx offers as though he lives here a not Prompto. And he could, Ignis thinks, for all the personality this place lacks. Anyone could live here. “If it's ok with sunshine, of course.”

 

“Unfortunately,” Ignis saves Prompto the trouble of trying to find a polite way to tell him to leave. By the triumphant glint in Nyx’s eye, the Glaive was counting on this. “I'll need to be getting back to the Prince now. Thank you for the offer.” 

 

It's without much ceremony that Prompto takes the half-finished devil tea from Ignis’ hands and sets it aside to be washed later. The advisor finds himself on the other side of the front door in a manner of minutes, with Prompto seeing him off.

 

“You have my thanks for entertaining me, Prompto,” Ignis says politely, aware of the fact that Nyx is probably listening carefully from within the apartment. That doesn't stop him from saying what he says next though. “I'm afraid that this conversation cannot be put to rest just yet,” he states firmly, “and I  _ will  _ be touching base with you again sometime in the near future.”

 

Because no one, not even an overprotective Kingsglaive is going to stop Ignis from doing his duty to Noctis. Prompto, as he is now, is merely another obstacle to overcome in assuring Noct's successful passage from Prince to King. 

 

And as Ignis walks away from the apartment towards the elevator, he vows to himself that he will deal with this obstacle accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personal headcanon for Prompto is that he struggles with anxiety and/or depression. Which is something I explore a bit here with the self-deprecating thoughts and the breakdown when Iggy confronted him. We didn't get much from Cor this chapter, because the focus was Ignis and Prompto's relationship, or lack thereof lol. But I love the idea of Cor being a fan of dry humor and teasing paired along with genuine instruction. In a way, I feel like he'd want to come off less intimidating to Prompto after seeing him have a little breakdown in the previous chapter, because now that he's decided that he's going to put in the work to get Prom up to speed, he wants Prompto to develop some level of trust or comfort in order to make it go smoother. It's not something I would say he'd do with most trainees, but Prompto is already a special case.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I kind of struggled with Iggy's characterization in this one. I wasn't too sure what would be considered too far out of character for him in terms of dealing with this version of Prompto. It seems as though the generally accepted fanon for Ignis is either him being a Concerned Mom friend to Prompto, or him liking Prompto as a friend well enough, but moreso out of obligation to Noct and a fellow Crownsgaurd. I tend to lean towards the latter myself, and I personally headcanon that the road trip is what really made Ignis start to see Prompto as a true friend/little brother figure. For this au, Prompto doesn't go out of his way to compliment or befriend Ignis, because he thinks that Ignis hates him, and because their first meeting was shit. 
> 
> To me, it seems like Ignis' biggest character trait is his devotion and care for Noctis, especially after Episode Ignis. That's what at play here, Iggy really is trying his best to do his job, but Noctis is making it a bit difficult on him. This Noctis doesn't really let Prompto get put into a position where he has to fight his own battles, instead shutting them down before they can even reach him. So effectively, Prompto is one of the few factors in Noct's life that Ignis has no real input in. But unlike Lunafreya, who similarly has a relationship with Noctis that outsiders are not privy to, Prompto doesn't seem like a totally positive influence on Noct. 
> 
> This is pretty much what was in my head when writing both of Iggy's conversations with Prom in this chapter. He's not ignorant to the good that Prompto has provided in Noct's life, but the trade off for that is that Noctis is exponentially more stubborn about certain things than he would have been otherwise, and these things make Iggy's life a bit harder. So yes, he's definitely supposed to come off as a bit of an asshole the first time, but I hope that I was able to make it believable within the parameters of his established character and this au.
> 
> Wow, this got long pretty fast. Nyx is a true bro. That's all. Anyways, stay happy and healthy, and I'll see y'all next time!


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah,” Cor answers honestly, “he’s worth the effort. Still can’t be sure that we have enough time to send him off with the Prince, but the kid’s definitely Guard material in mindset. If he keeps working and his body holds up, there may just be something to this crazy idea after all.”
> 
> “Hmm” Monica hums thoughtfully, “that’s interesting.”
> 
> “Interesting?” Cor repeats, knowing that the woman is going somewhere with this. Cor’s not a man of many words himself, but Monica is a woman of even less. Everything she says carries a weight to it that not many people can discern. But Cor’s known her for a long time now, and trusted her with his life for nigh the entirety of it. When Elshett speaks, he listens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! life's been a little busy lately so apologies for the wait, but I'm here and ready to present you all with another chapter!

“This is becoming rather complicated.”

 

Regis merely hums to acknowledge his Shield’s words, eyes focused on the latest report from Drautos. Niflheim seems to be honoring the ceasefire so far, which is good. But the dissent amongst the ranks of the Kingsglaive seem to spiking in response to his pulling more and more them back into the City. 

 

“Indeed,” the King mutters, “I cannot withdraw the presence of the Glaive from everywhere beyond the Wall just yet. There are many Lucians still in need of support in the wake of the larger conflicts. But I must take into a account how this will appear to Niflheim. It won't do for them to take anything as an act of aggression at this point, especially considering they have locked down their checkpoints.” 

 

“That most certainly is a dilemma, your Majesty,” Clarus responds easily. “But I was talking about the situation with the Prince's friend.”

 

Regis pauses in his reading, looking up to his old friend with an arched eyebrow. Clarus Amicitia, not wanting to talk about their efforts to protect themselves from Niflheim? He must know something that Regis does not regarding Cor's latest trainee.

 

“And what brings this up?” Regis questions, “it's only been a week. Cor has not approached me to complain about the boy, and no news is generally good news when it comes to him.”

 

“I happened to overhear Gladiolus and Iris bickering last night,” Clarus answers with a sigh that only a parent with a son and a daughter can manage. “And it would seem that my son and Advisor Scientia have taken it upon themselves to try and put an end to this.”

 

“And this surprises you?” Regis looks back down to the reports. “They were not consulted beforehand. They weren't even told beforehand. And young Argentum cannot have been their first choice for another traveling companion,” he recites dryly, “it's no wonder that they would try and sway Noctis away from this.”

 

“Except they seem to have decided that it's best to approach Argentum directly with their reservations,” Clarus explains. Regis looks back up. 

 

Oh.

 

“And have they?” The King inquires.

 

“Ignis has tried, from what I understand.” His Shield answers, “but was unsuccessful. Gladiolus plans to try next, and I'm concerned that Argentum won't respond well to his...methods.”

 

“I see,” Regis murmurs. That's a bit worrisome. And not for any reason other than the fact that Noctis will not be happy to hear that his retainers have done this without his knowledge.

 

“Should we intervene?” Clarus questions, “It won't do to have the Prince’s relationship with his retainers fractured like this before they even depart.”

 

“That is a concern,” the King acknowledges, “but I have no intention of stepping into it, and I've instructed Cor to handle any potential issues like this in whatever way he sees fit.” 

 

“You'd have us do nothing?” Clarus appears surprised at this.

 

“Whether or not you choose to bring this up to Gladiolus is entirely up to you,” Regis shrugs, looking back down to the reports. “But I would recommend against it. This is a learning experience. For all of them.”

 

“I'm afraid I don't follow.”

 

“We will not be there to mediate while they're beyond the Wall, Clarus.” Regis states plainly. “Any and all conflicts within their group will have to be handled just as that. Within their group. Gladiolus and Ignis are performing their duty. Maybe not in the way that you or I would now, but certainly in a way befitting of their positions.”

 

“This will also be an opportunity for Noctis,” he continues. “Ignis and Gladiolus will certainly challenge him, they will have to be his council and his protection and his army while they are away from the city. He's done well in defending his fondness for Prompto up until now, but only by placing himself in between the boy and them and shutting down any objections. In this particular instance, however, I believe he will be forced to allow Prompto to defend himself.”

 

“Which Argentum will have to do if he plans on becoming a part of the Prince's retinue,” Clarus concludes, nodding to show that they're on the same page. “So we allow them to work this out entirely amongst themselves?”

 

“I believe that is for the best,” Regis responds with a sigh. “After all, they'll only have each other out there.”

 

…

 

“Have you ever been to Altissia before?” Prompto wonders aloud, rummaging through his best friend's fridge. He hears a muttered curse and a thud before he gets his answer.

 

“Twice,” Noctis grumbles, “I was super young both times. We stopped going outside of Lucis after Tenebrae.”

 

“Ah,” Prompto nods, brow furrowing a bit. Noctis has an astonishing lack of things in his fridge. “Noct, are you sure you have more eggs? All I see is soda, milk and a bunch of hot pockets...aren't hot pockets supposed to stay in the freezer?”

 

“I'm pretty sure there were eggs in there…” the Prince responds. Prompto hears another thud. And then, “Dammit!”

 

The blonde angles his head back and stares as his friend tries (and fails) to mix the batter for their chocolate chunk cookie recipe. The thud sound appears to be a result of the Prince getting frustrated when the spoon stops moving and slamming the bowl around because of it. 

 

“I don't understand what's going on,” Noct huffs, “it's like trying to stir a rock!” 

 

“Are you sure that you're remembering the recipe right?” Prompto asks, closing the fridge. Noctis does  _ not  _ have eggs. He's certain of this now. “I told you that those flour and chocolate chip proportions seemed weird.” 

 

“This is how Ignis does it!”

 

Prompto highly doubts that, but decides against saying anything because he himself has no idea how to make pastries. But speaking of Ignis. 

 

“Where is he anyway?” The blonde, hoping that he does a good job of sounding curious and not nervous. Noctis has a ridiculous sense for that. It's around five pm on a Saturday and they're at Noct's apartment. Normally Ignis would be here by now, prepping some extravagant dinner for Noctis in order to make sure that they aren't just ordering takeout. Or attempting to cook anything. 

 

“He's at one of his medical seminar things,” the Prince responds, completely engrossed in glaring at the mix. “Supposed to be learning about status effects. Well...learning more than he already knows.”

 

“Ah,” Prompto acknowledges mildly. Ever impressive, Ignis is. Always planning for the future and preparing contingencies just in case problems arise. Problems like Prompto, apparently. 

 

The slightly bitter tinge to his thoughts catches Prompto off guard. If only because he knows that there’s no good reason why Ignis wouldn’t see Prompto as a problem right now. The advisor is pretty much always in some state of crisis control, from what Prompto booth hears from Noctis and observes in the rare moments that he sees Ignis work. And the trip to Altissia is pretty much the crisis to end all crises right now, so naturally he’d be bent out of shape with Prompto’s involvement so last minute.

 

Not for the first time, Prompto wishes that he’d worked up the nerve on his own to ask Noctis about going along with him on the road trip, instead of waiting for the abrupt and admittedly ominous letter that have arrived via Pryna a little over three weeks ago.

 

Keeping up a correspondence with Lady Lunafreya after the initial letter he’d received via the messenger all those years ago was not something that Prompto would have expected from his life. But the Oracle had taken a liking to him for some odd reason, and seemed delighted to be able to trade letters with him once every few months. 

 

Starting not too long after he’d nursed Pryna back to full health, Lunafreya’s letter’s at first seemed entirely focused on some odd worry she had for Noctis. She’d always be ask after Prompto’s wellbeing, had a not-so-subtle interest in what he did with Nyx, but the purpose of he letters was obviously to keep an eye on the Prince through Prompto in some way. She was always curious as to how the Prince seemed to be doing in school from the perspective of someone from the outside. Prompto had done his best  to answer in those first few letters, but he did not try to approach Noctis after that first embarrassment of falling in front of the Prince, and Lunafreya seemed to catch onto his reluctance to bother then Prince after a while, because her letters soon strayed away from Noctis in entirety, instead focusing only on Prompto and how he was doing, what his life was like, what his parents were doing when they were constantly away. 

 

One would likely expect Prompto to name Nyx as his first friend, seeing as though he’d met the elder first before everyone. But it admittedly had taken Prompto a long time to consider Nyx as a friend and not an aloof mentor figure. If Prompto were to name a time for the shift in his relationship with the Glaive, he’d credit it to when Noctis began asking Nyx to chaperone them whenever they hung out outside of school. 

 

No, Prompto’s first friend was most certainly Lady Lunafreya, as odd as thinking of it like that is. 

 

She hadn’t pressured him to pursue a friendship with Noctis when she’d deduced that they idea made him uncomfortable, but continued to talk to him through letters and Pryna as consistently as she could manage with her duties as both the Oracle, and later a figurehead for the Empire to use. He had told her about Noctis approaching him to work together on a project when they’d reached high school, and her response had seemed genuinely happy for Prompto himself in potentially making a new friend, with no overarching worry about Noctis present at all really. It was at that time that Prompto had allowed himself to believe that the Oracle seemed to think of him as a friend somehow, and it was a liberating feeling. He hadn’t realized just how worried he was that she was still only talking to him in hopes of keeping an eye on Noctis until he suddenly wasn’t worried anymore.

 

“Ugh,” Noctis groans, “why did we decide to do this again?”

 

“You wanted cookies,” Prompto responds with a small grin. “But you didn’t feel like walking to buy cookies, so you decided to try and replicate Ignis’ recipe from memory.”

 

“Prompto,” Noctis says, eyes serious. “This was a  _ terrible  _ idea. Why didn’t you stop me? You’re supposed to be my impulse control.”

 

“Isn’t that Ignis’ job?”

 

“No,” Noctis corrects, abandoning the bowl in the sink finally. “Iggy’s job is to make sure that I never get put into a position where I have to think or act impulsively. It’s your job as best friend to either back me up or talk me down when Iggy isn’t around.”

 

“I backed you up,” Prompto protests, smiling at the way the words ‘best friend’ warm him from the inside. “I said, ‘cool, sounds fun’.”

 

“Well next time I decide that baking is fun,” Noctis rolls his eyes with a fond smile, “I need you convince me otherwise. Do you know how harshly Iggy is going to judge me when I tell him that I used up an entire bag of flour and two bags of chocolate chips and have nothing to show for it?”

 

Prompto’s smile dims. Because he  _ does  _ know how harshly Ignis is going to judge Noctis for this. Ignis will give Noctis that carefully blank expression with nothing but an arched brow to communicate his exasperation. He’ll ask Noctis to explain in detail what he did, to which Ignis will listen carefully before calmly explaining to the Prince where he went wrong in return. Noctis will huff and pout, but will secretly take in what Ignis says in order to not make the same mistakes twice, and Ignis will give a slight sigh before fixing the issue with no more ceremony.

 

It’ll be nothing like the way Ignis looked at Prompto earlier in the week. Eyes sharp and calculating, face tight with carefully contained displeasure, the way he looks when he has a problem that he needs to solve and he has no immediate idea of how to solve it. Prompto spends most of the time with Noctis and Ignis in the same room examining the advisor. He has never been able to be comfortable around Ignis, and while he can’t claim to know exactly how the older man thinks of him, Prompto can confidently say that it probably isn’t the most positive. He doesn’t know how he didn’t take into account that going on this road trip meant that he would be in close quarters with both Ignis and Gladiolus as well.

 

The idea makes him more anxious than Prompto feels is fair. After all, Ignis and Gladiolus are far from bad guys, and there’s never been any doubt that they have Noct’s best interests at heart, on top of being very close friends with the Prince as well. Prompto shouldn't be as perturbed by the idea of interacting with them as he is, but the fact of the matter is that neither Ignis nor Gladiolus like him, and Prompto has a bad track record in dealing with those who don’t like him. 

 

“Prom?”

 

Prompto’s eyes (which he doesn’t even remember lowering) snap up to meet Noct’s concerned gaze.

 

_ Crap _ .

 

“What’s wrong?” Noctis asks carefully, moving across the kitchen to stand next to Prompto. 

 

“N-nothing…” Prompto responds quietly. He doesn’t see a point in bringing up his conversation with Ignis at this point. Cor hadn’t acted any differently during their sessions for the remainder of the week, so Prompto has to believe that Ignis did not go to the Marshall afterwards. The advisor also hadn’t approached Prompto at any point in time during the week either. He’s not sure where the situation goes from here, because Prompto knows that Ignis doesn’t say things that he doesn’t mean, but his training hasn’t been affected and he’s come to realize that a sort of confrontation with Noct’s retainers is unavoidable. No good reason to bother Noct with this. Prompto just knows that it would open a can of worms that no one is really keen on dealing with.

 

“Really?” Noctis prods.

 

Prompto looks down again. There’s a pause, during which Noctis steps just a bit closer. The Prince angles his head slightly to catch Prompto’s gaze, expression skeptical. 

 

“ _ Really _ , Prompto?” Noct aks again.

 

Prompto sighs.

 

“It’s nothing that I can’t handle,” he says. Prompto knows that Noctis won’t press if he asks him not to, but he’ll worry. And Prompto really doesn’t want to add to his friend’s list of worries if he can help it. It’s bad enough that Noct has to be doing some serious reevaluating of his plans to accommodate Prompto if Cor says that he can go. There’s no reason to bother him about Ignis unless he absolutely has to.

 

“You sure?” Noct arches an eyebrow. Prompto is beginning to wonder if everyone who frequents the Citadel is capable of acrobatics with their eyebrows.

 

“Yeah,” he’s not sure if he can handle Ignis, because he’s not sure where the advisor plans on going from their last conversation. But Prompto is sure that there’s no reason to let Noctis handle it in his stead. He has no illusions of becoming friends with Ignis anytime soon, but he’s sure that they can come to some understanding if need be. Noctis examines him closely.

 

“Ok,” the Prince says, “let me know if that changes, though?”

 

“Ok,” Prompto agrees, giving a small smile.

 

Prompto really,  _ really  _ hopes that it doesn’t change.

 

…

 

“So,” Monica Elshett begins, “how goes the training?”

 

Cor sighs, mentally reminding himself that he likes Elshett, enough so that she’s his second. The question is honestly old, at this point though. Which is impressive, because it’s literally been a week. ( _ One down, seven to go, _ his mind supplies unhelpfully.) And half of his time in the Citadel this week has been devoted to Argentum, and still people have found a way to exhaust the topic of the kid outside of that aforementioned time. 

 

“Though I suppose at this point it would be called ‘conditioning’” Monica corrects, ignoring his sigh and helping herself to the seat on the other side of his desk. “Is it worth pursuing?”

 

The question is simple, and one he’s been asked multiple times by multiple other agents in the Crownsguard. And yet the thing that sets Monica apart from them all is the plain curiosity in her tone. She’s asking an honest question looking for an honest answer, which is refreshing in a way it shouldn’t be. Cor’s come to realize in this past week, that not only is Argentum a bit more well-known amongst the Guard than he thought, but that opinions on the kid are actually a lot harsher that he thought as well. There’s not been a single genuine inquiry into the boy’s progress this entire week. Rather, it seems like every Crownsguard that asks after Argentum has just been seeking more fuel to mock the kid with. 

 

Which, quite frankly, pisses Cor off just a bit.

 

Because Argentum’s training  _ is  _ worth pursuing. At least from what Cor has seen so far. The boy’s physical condition is respectable, though not overtly impressive, and Cor is confident that he will take to training well. But that in and of itself isn’t what Cor had found himself intrigued by. No, what’s really caught Cor’s attention is the odd determination he’s glimpsed underneath Prompto’s meek and quiet nature.

 

He’d made the decision early on to weigh Argentum’s actions more than his words. Anything the boy has said in the past week has come off as nothing but sincere, if a bit guarded, but it doesn’t change the fact that Cor can count on one hand the number of actual conversations they’ve had this week and still have a finger left over. The true measure of Argentum’s strength, so far, has been in how the kid gets up every time he falls down on an obstacle course without fail. How he performs every tedious workout and exercise Cor commands him to without complaint and appears dedicated to doing so (Cor has never seen a person take push-ups so seriously). How he’s willing to work to the brink of exhaustion and pull himself back up the next morning with the same subtle steel  in his eyes. Cor can’t say for sure that the kid believes in himself, since he’s peeped more than one disbelieving glance when Cor commends one of his efforts, but he damn sure believes in something hard enough to keep pushing. And the Marshall doesn’t see that determination waning anytime soon.

 

“Yeah,” Cor answers honestly, “he’s worth the effort. Still can’t be sure that we have enough time to send him off with the Prince, but the kid’s definitely Guard material in mindset. If he keeps working and his body holds up, there may just be something to this crazy idea after all.”

 

“Hmm” Monica hums thoughtfully, “that’s interesting.”

 

“Interesting?” Cor repeats, knowing that the woman is going somewhere with this. Cor’s not a man of many words himself, but Monica is a woman of even less. Everything she says carries a weight to it that not many people can discern. But Cor’s known her for a long time now, and trusted her with his life for nigh the entirety of it. When Elshett speaks, he listens.

 

“In the sense that your assessment of Argentum contradicts key points within his profile,” the woman produces a file from somewhere, and begins thumbing through it unprompted. “Ignis Scientia describes Prompto Argentum as “Directionless at best, complacent at worst”, and seems to be under the impression that while Crownsguard training is necessary due to the nature of his relationship with Prince, actual induction into the ranks will yield no long term benefit to the Crown.”

 

Cor says nothing. His first thought is the assessment is harsh, but not entirely unfounded. Cor can see how Ignis would get that impression, and he may have even agreed with it if Monica had presented this to him a week ago. As it stands now though, Cor believes that it would be irresponsible to label Argentum as “Directionless”. In fact, Cor would go as far as to say that the kid understands what he wants very clearly. Though he may be a bit foggy on why he wants it or how he plans to get it, Argentum is clearly willing to work for it.

 

“Gladiolus Amicitia describes him as “Weak-willed and unable to stand up for himself, let alone stand up for the Prince”, and is clear in his opinion that Crownsguard training would be a waste of time and resources, but seems to think that Prompto would be a viable addition to the Armory staff when he obtains his Weaponsmith and Engineering degree.”

 

Cor privately thinks that Argentum definitely needs to take up for himself more, but disagrees wholeheartedly that training the kid would be a waste of time and resources. Even if they weren’t trying to send Argentum out with Noctis, it would still be worth giving the boy more than some meager self-defense lessons. The Weaponsmith and Engineering programs are new to him though. He’s been aware that Argentum is enrolled in college, but he hasn’t known what for until now.  _ Something to keep in mind _ , he thinks.

 

“All of the Crownsguard that are posted about the Prince’s apartment complex agree that while Argentum is pleasant, they would hesitate to entrust him with even his own safety,” Monica says, and Cor realizes that this is the file that was compiled on Argentum when he was granted security clearance to a good portion of the Citadel. By default, anyone who’s ever been given such a noteworthy level of clearance is automatically considered for both the Guard and the Glaive. Under normal circumstances, they would have only asked four to five people for an assessment on the kid. But considering his proximity to the Prince, they would have asked anyone in either organization that kept up a notable amount of contact with Argentum or Noctis.

 

Which means.

 

“What does Glaive Ulric’s say?” Cor questions. He thinks that he knows already, but there’s nothing wrong in confirming it. Monica flips to a clearly bookmarked page.

 

“Glaive Ulric notes that Argentum has a “Wildly and unfairly underestimated sense of loyalty”, and is under the impression that Prompto is capable of doing anything he sets his mind to if given the opportunity,” she recites, “he does mention that he would recommend Prompto for the Crownsguard before the Kingsglaive, says that he believes the boy would shine brighter as a defender as opposed to a frontliner.”

 

Cor ponders the assessment, and finds himself nodding before he even realizes. It’s only natural that Nyx Ulric would have a more positive outlook on the idea of making Argentum a part of the Guard. What Cor finds interesting however, is that he himself is almost instantly willing to believe Nyx over Ignis and Gladiolus even though he’s only had a week of experience with Argentum to Nyx’s years. He’s not willing to blindly trust the assessment though,even if he thinks it’s more accurate.

 

“Glaive Altius writes that Argentum is, and I quote, a “Cinnamon roll that needs protecting more than he has the capacity to protect”. Though she also says in hear that the boy has sharp observational skills and could be made into a very effective Glaive if one was willing to put in the effort of getting him there.”

 

“Huh,” Cor knows Crowe Altius. She’s one of the Glaive’s most skilled black ops agents, and has a reputation as a spitfire both on and off the battlefield. Not the type to mince words or offer platitudes even if she has taken a liking to someone. For someone like that to say Argentum could be a Glaive? She would have to have seen no small degree of combat potential. Cor might have to pay her a visit before she gets sent off to collect Lady Lunafreya. 

 

“You understand why I’ve brought you this,” Monica asks, “right?”

 

“I imagine it’s because you know that I’ve never looked at it in detail.” Cor responds easily. This report would have been compiled around the time of Argentum’s and Noctis’ graduation, which would have been the time after which Argentum would have been expected to be around the Citadel more. He did not order it to be done, which means that it was probably Clarus, who would have only been considering Argentum for a reserve position in the Guard anyway. Which means that Cor would not have had to see it.

 

“In part, yes.” Monica nods.

 

“And also because you want me to be prepared to either defend or condemn the kid,” Cor states. Because that’s what Monica  _ really  _ wants him to take from this. Because it doesn’t matter what Cor sees in Argentum now, the boy will never have the chance to truly prove himself to anyone but the Prince and his retinue if they allow him to go along to Altissia. All anyone else in the Citadel has to go off is their personal observations and this file. And regardless of the Glaives that are willing to go to bat for the kid, both Ignis’ and Gladiolus’ assessments carry much more weight, as do the Crownsguard who, as a whole, are not too impressed with Argentum. And while no one is going to question the King’s decision, there is a fair chance that the council and the more vocal members of the Guard will make the kid’s life difficult based on this report. 

 

Cor, as his primary and only trainer, is automatically going to be the one who has to stand between Argentum and this. Prince Noctis, as the Prince, cannot do much in the way of defending his friend now that Argentum is officially a Crownsguard hopeful. He can certainly support the kid and intervene when Ignis and Gladiolus inevitably force themselves into the situation, but shielding Argentum from the politics of the Citadel is something that will now have to fall on Cor’s shoulders. And Monica is making sure he’s one hundred percent aware of what that entails. 

 

“You will have to decide which one you’re going to do,” Monica advises, “with the Prince’s trip coming up and the demilitarization of the Glaive as well as the mission to intercept Lunafreya, all facets of the Citadel are in high-stress mode, not helped by the fact that most projects going on all have some degree of classification and withholding of details.”

 

“The only thing that’s interesting to talk about that people can talk about freely is the kid,” Cor concludes, bringing his hand up to rub at his forehead. 

 

“Exactly,” Monica says, “no one will openly question your judgment or King Regis’, but there will certainly be eyes on Prompto Argentum in a way that he may not be entirely prepared for. People will seek to challenge him. To scare him off.”

 

“Tch,” Cor snorts despite himself, “I don’t think that there’ll be much scaring that kid off, Monica. He’s got some mettle to him.”

 

“I certainly hope you’re right about that,” Monica says plainly, “because Ignis Scientia has reserved an entire two hours of time in one of the conference room for tomorrow. It happens to fall within Prince Noctis’ alloted time for elemancy practice with the Glaives.”

 

Cor throws his head back and sighs.

 

…

 

“Should we really be doing this out here where people can see?” Prompto asks nervously.

 

Noctis just smiles, looking over to Nyx, who’s lounging on a bench leisurely. 

 

“Don’t worry Sunshine,” the Glaive says with a chuckle, “this park is way to out of the way for anyone to really stumble across without me noticing way beforehand. No one’s gonna see.”

 

“O-Ok…”

 

Noctis finds it more than a little amusing how Prompto can consistently be nervous about other people catching sight of them when they come out to this dog park in the western parts of the refugee district. They only come out around eleven pm and stay for no more than an hour, Nyx always keeps careful watch, it’s only happened once or twice a month since last summer and not once have they ever been noticed. 

 

“When you’re ready Prom,” Noctis says, standing a few meters across from his best friend, dressed comfortably in a simple tracksuit.

 

“Right,” the blonde nods, adjusting his glasses slightly and doing an odd little shuffle with his feet.

 

Noctis grins big and full. Damn is Prompto adorable sometimes (most of the time).

 

Prompto doesn’t broadcast his movements, but Noctis doesn’t need him to. The Prince feels the telltale tugging at his chest characteristic his magic being touched by someone other than himself. A second later, a green ball materializes in Prompto’s hands in a burst of gentle blue light. Without the blonde tosses it at Noctis.

 

The Prince catches the ball easily, dismissing it back into the armiger immediately and pulling a red one out. He chucks it at Prompto, grinning triumphantly when the blonde dismisses that one as well with only a small delay. He feels the red ball settle back into the armiger and immediately feels as Prompto pulls another one out, this one blue, and throws it.

 

It continues like this. Prompto will pull a ball of a particular color out of the armiger and throw it to Noctis, who will dismiss it and pull another one of a different color out and toss it back to Prompto, who will then place it back into the armiger and then pull another one out that can’t be the same color as the last two. 

 

It’s how Noctis was taught by his dad when he was young to differentiate items within the ethereal space that is the armiger. Noctis had insisted on showing Prompto the trick not too long after he’d given the blonde access to the armiger last year. In the beginning, it would take Prompto up to a full minute to find his way through the clutter of the armiger, and he would often pull out something completely different to what he’d intended to pull. Now, however, his reaction time is almost a quick as Noctis’ with small objects and rivals Ignis’ or Gladio’s with bigger items. 

 

It’s not something they can work on very often, because Noctis totally broke a shit ton of rules in gifting Prompto access to the armiger without the blonde being formally trained as a Guard or a Glaive. And so they only do it out here in this park, far away from the Citadel and any of the patrols, and only at night when there are no civilians out and about.

 

It’s in watching Prompto smile both freely and triumphantly as he successfully works the armiger that Noctis finds that he can’t feel guilty about gifting a portion of his magic to his best friend. After all, it’s his to give to those whom he trusts and cares for. And if it saves Prompto’s life one day, then that’s all the justification he needs. Even more so now that he’s going to potentially bring the blonde along with him to Altissia.

 

The practice until it’s almost midnight, and Prompto is almost dead on his feet. The repetition will eventually help him to not get wiped out by the act of accessing the armiger as well. And then Noctis and Nyx drop a sleepy Prompto off at his apartment (that his parents still aren’t in) on their way back to the Citadel, because of course Noctis has a day full of elemancy practice tomorrow.

 

“So,” Nyx begins casually, “you think Sunshine’s got a shot?”

 

“Of course,” Noctis answers easily. And he means it. He’s never thought of his best friend as being weak. Prompto has gone through too much. His parents are all but nonexistent in his life, he was bullied regularly at school before Noctis has wised up to it and put and end to it, and not just by the students. He’s had a part-time job for almost the entirety of the time that Noct has been hanging out for him. He’s smart, insightful, and can find positivity in almost anything if given the chance.

 

“He’s tough,” Noctis mutters, “I’m...worried about him. But I know that he and Cor have got this.”

 

“Yeah,” Nyx agrees loftily, “I give Cor another week before he’s whipped.”

 

Noctis laughs, but doesn’t disagree. There’s no one who isn’t an asshole that would still hate on Prompto after spending any amount of real time with him. And Cor isn’t even someone who hates on Prom, so Noctis just knows that the blonde is going to have the Marshall melting in no time. He wishes that Ignis and Gladio would give Prompto a chance, but by the end of all of this, if they can somehow open their minds a little bit, he’s sure that they’ll Prompto like Noctis does.

 

…

 

Prompto yawns, walking down the hallways of the Citadel.

 

That armiger practice drains him like Prompto has never been drained before. It’s different from the exhausted ache that’s been present this past week from Cor pushing him to see what he can take. It’s more...internal, and drowsiness that seems to spread from his very soul that he can’t quite shake for a few hours the next day. He often wonders if this is even a fraction of how tired Noctis feels all the time, and if it is, Prompto decides that his best friend is single handedly the most impressive person that he knows personally.

 

Prompto huffs as he makes his way down to the hallway that contains the smaller conference rooms that he and Noct occasionally used to study in back when they were in their last year. If he’d known that he be asked to meet a Crownsguard representative today to sign some paperwork or whatever, he would have just continued on back to the Citadel with Noctis and Nyx last night. The call had been abrupt this morning, from one of the many secretaries that work in the Citadel, but Prompto had no other plans for today other than to laze around before picking up with training again tomorrow, so he’d agreed easily enough.

 

Prompto steps up to the room he thinks that he’s supposed to be in, mainly because it’s the only room in the hall that’s wide open, which he was told to look for.

 

There’s no one in the room when Prompto steps in, which isn’t  too odd because he’s a good fifteen minutes early. There is in fact a spread of official looking papers across the table the center of the room, and Prompto pulls his hoodie tighter across his torso as he fidgets nervously. He wonders why Cor didn’t take him through these things, but then has a thought that maybe the Marshall isn’t the type to enjoy going through things like paperwork. Cor probably has people for that, one of which Prompto is likely to meet today. He hopes that they’re nice.

 

“Ah,” the voice that sounds from behind him has Prompto stiffening sharply “You’re quite early, Prompto.”

 

Fingers shaking slightly as they curl into the fabric of his hoodie, Prompto turns slightly to look at Ignis as the advisor strolls into the room and immediately begins setting up shop. 

 

“I-Ignis…” Prompto acknowledges softly. 

 

“I’m happy that you agreed to meet with me under such last minute circumstances,” Ignis says loftily, “I assure you that I won’t take too much of your time today, but there are some administrative aspects to your training with Cor that I thought might be better handled sooner rather than later.”

 

“R-right..” 

 

“It also gives us an opportunity to speak candidly once again,” Ignis sits down at the table, fixing Prompto with a sharp gaze, “uninterrupted of course, because I’ve reserved this room for at least two hours.”

 

“T-two h-hours…?” Prompto asks, eyes wide. “W-what could w-we have to t-talk about t-that w-w-would take  _ two hours _ ?”

 

Ignis looks entirely unsympathetic to Prompto’s growing unease. When he answers, his voice uncompromising.

 

“Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have a look here at the more...domestic? aspects of Noctis' and Prompto's life. Failing to make cookies and all XD. I'd like to think that their days are filled with little random activities like this. With Prompto being all shy and Noctis not being the most social, I have the idea that in this universe that they stay in more than they go out, and when they go out, it's at less busy places in general. I tried my hand at a little magic realism here, trying to parse how the armiger might work in universe in terms of granting it others, practicing with it. It seems like the type of thing that one would really need to have to training to get good with, so the ball game is just my own little fun way of explaining how Noctis, and now Prompto, may have learned to control what they pull from the armiger.
> 
> The conversation between Cor and Monica was interesting to write. I wanted to represent the likely politics of someone as unconventional as Prompto being placed into the position he's in, both as a Crownsguard trainee and Noct's bestie. A large focus of this fic is Prompto proving himself to the people of the Citadel, considering the fact that he needs to in order to go to Altissia in the first place, and this was a bit of a set up for the types of hurdles that Prompto will have to conquer. But don't worry, he's got Cor on his side :). 
> 
> I would like to point out the tags again lol. Ignis may seem to be a bit unreasonable at the moment, but let's not forget that he's doing what he feels like his job is. But next time we'll get a real conversation between Prom and Iggy, laying some things out on the table! And as a side note, Prompto is not scared of Ignis in the end in the sense that he thinks Iggy is out to get him, but I do headcanon Prompto as dealing with anxiety, that spiked at the end of the chapter because he's both caught of guard by Ignis and aware that Ignis disapproves
> 
> Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed. Stay happy and healthy and tuned for the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> The main change in this is that Noctis was put into a position where he had to approach Prompto first, and not the other way around. This fic will not only explore how a Shy!Prompto would do within the canon, but also the way I feel having to look out for a Shy!Prompto would affect Noctis' character and his relationships. I have a lot planned for this lol, so bear with me.
> 
> So I'm admittedly bad with keeping an update schedule, with tendencies to post a lot of content at one time and then fade into silence because Life. However, I feel very strongly about not leaving works incomplete. So I'll always get back to work eventually. Basically my way of saying don't expect a regular update schedule, but expect that it will eventually be completed. Comments and Reviews are appreciated!


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